Interloper 2: The Collector Crisis
by M.B.Liddle
Summary: Two and a half years after he helped Shepard destroy the Reaper Sovereign, Michael Liddle restlessly waits for the Commander's return. He knows what is coming, but will he be able to stop it? A continuation of Mass Effect: Interloper. Self Insert. Rated T for Terrific.
1. Chapter 1: Cook's Landing

Interloper 2: Chapter 1

**This story is the second of the Interloper series. If you have come here from the first, Mass Effect: Interloper, then welcome! If you have not yet read the first story, then I advise you to give it a go. Literally tens of people have enjoyed it. So, with that out of the way, on to the story. Don't hesitate to drop a review or a PM, follow this story, or send chocolates.**

* * *

The pale early morning light of Cook's Landing shone upon the well-worn tools and electrical components that lay spread across the beaten metal surface of the garage's workbench. The light found me working on a recent project of mine, something to distract me from the ill news. Or lack of news. It had been almost two and a half years since Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, daughter of the colonies and hero of Elysium, had been reported lost. Almost six months overdue was her triumphant return to the living. And so I worked on my project, even in the early hours before my daily tasks began. I stifled a yawn and put down my tools. It would be time to start work soon. Even now I could hear some of the other hands moving about in the wide and sandy courtyard. The pleasant lilt of the local accent filled the air as men and women worked to rig up boats and the other various tools of the trade.

Cook's Progress was a relatively small one, a tropical world wreathed in a wide ocean. One the biggest cluster of islands, the capital city rose right up to the sandy shores. Here on one of the smaller islands, agriculture flourished. The Romano's farm specialized in the local citrus fruits that fetched a high price on nearby planets. Farming was much harder work than I had guessed upon accepting the job, but it came with room and board, and more importantly, an extranet connection. I started to stand; soon I would be called to attend my morning duties. Something rustled behind me. I whirled, worn red pistol in hand. I met the blinking face of the youngest daughter of the Romano family, Elisabeth. I quickly stowed the weapon, smiling sheepishly.

"I really wish you would stop sneaking up on me like that?" I said. Liz gave me an easy smile and walked past me to sit on the workbench.

"And I really wish you'd tell me how you got so jumpy." The girl teased. "Anyway, you're going to miss breakfast."

"Can't have that." I murmured. I went for the door, expecting the girl to follow me. She didn't. I turned back. Liz stood by the workbench, eying my latest project appraisingly, a finger entangling itself in her shoulder length coils of light brown hair.

"Is this the new one then?" She asked when she found me looking at her.

"It is." I picked up the long white rifle, an M-96 Mattock, from the table. For now its casing lay open, exposing the wires and field generators within.

"Looks like you're trying to rig it up to accept those new expendable heat clips." She noted as she traced a finger over the ruggedized circuits. "I don't know why you would though."

"New militia standards." I said quickly.

"Liar," She accused sunnily. "If the militia got its hands on new guns, dad would be up the wall in excitement. I groaned. Elisabeth was especially proficient in ferreting out my little fictions. It didn't help that she was the daughter of my employer, the man who was also head of the local island cluster's small militia force. "And anyway, this configuration wouldn't work. The way you have it, the sink will melt the ejector leads, right here." She pointed at a silvery line that ran across the rifle, bridging the gap between the small power source and the servos that would fling expended clips from the weapon. After perusal, I saw that she was right. I groaned again. Even at several years my junior, the girl was almost a prodigy when it came to fiddling with electronics. When her dad was in a joking mood, he liked to say that she had been dropped off by the Flotilla as an infant, giving her slight frame and narrow face as further evidence.

"I'll have to fix that." I admitted, "It's not a finished product. Now, you said something about breakfast?"

* * *

The Romano home was cozy for a series of prefabs bolted together. The long table of local wood was laden with palettes of protein rations, synthetic eggs, and slices of the pale lilac citrus fruit. Into these, the other hands tucked in with relish. I picked at my own food.

"Not hungry today?" Mrs. Romano asked as she cleared a finished dish from the table.

"Not really." I lied, "Just thinking, I wanted to talk to the boss about…"

"About what?" the owner of the farm came in through the doorway. He was a short man, with thin hair on top of his head and a thick mustache below his nose. He was also strong, and powerfully built. As head of militia he still kept to the fierce exercise regime of the Alliance marines, even as his hair began to grey.

"I was hoping to get the day off today, sir?" I asked politely. "It's June again." Mr. Romano regarded me, thick thumbnail in his mouth. He was a combat veteran; he had always respected my feelings about today.

"Tell you what," he said after some thought. "I need some packages picked up at the spaceport. Why don't you run into town and take care of that, then you can take the rest of the day off?" I nodded thankfully.

"Thank you, Sir." The man made a gruff sound and moved to his own place at the table, pausing to clap a farmhand on the back or tousle one of his children's hair. I returned my attention to my plate and managed to get down a ration cake and a swig of fruit juice before excusing myself from the table. I left the farmhouse for the road that lay aside it, starting the walk into town.

* * *

The local starport was one another island, one much closer to the capital. I had to pick a ride on one of the shuttle busses that filled the skyline of the island city. There had been talk of putting in a series of massive spindly bridges to connect the various parts of the cluster a while back, but with cheap mass effect technology being so prevalent, nothing came of it. I spent the ride in silence, vid disk clutched in hand. Finally my commute was over and I stood before the sprawling and busy port. Transports, freighters, and sleek Alliance patrol boats slid in and out of the massive complex on invisible pillows of negative gravity. It was good that Mr. Romano had assigned me the job of visiting the port; I had a few deliveries of my own to make. I took a wandering route to the local Import/Export office, allowing the crowd to move me along.

"Ah, a fine morning to you Mr. Smith." The salarian postmaster greeted me warmly. The wide spread use of the extranet for communication left him with a lot of free time and a low salary, a problem I occasionally found a way of solving.

"Morning, Riggen. I wanted to check the lost and found for the last week." The salarian smiled broadly.

"Of course, of course. Many things lost last week. Not many interesting, but I think some unfortunate from off planet may have misplaced some very important documents." He drew a blank datapad from under his desk and handed it to me. I waved my Omni-tool over the display. It was weakly encrypted, probably someone's traffic reports or tax returns, but everything was valuable to someone.

"I think I recognize these, I'll make sure they get to the right people. Oh, and here, I think somebody lost a credit chit." I said, handing the small metal rectangle over.

"Happens all the time." Riggen chirped. "I'll take care of this." He slipped the card into his shirt pocket. "Be seeing you later today? Somebody 'lost' a very tasty asari wine."

"Not today, Riggen." I said, "It's June."

"Ah, perhaps you should keep the whole bottle." The postmaster offered.

"Generous, but I'm going to have to decline." I stood and shook the man's three fingered hand. I left the office with the datapad tucked under ad arm and went looking for the Boss' shipment. After checking on the note he had given me, I found my way to one of the out of the way loading docks. I was surprised to find a grey and blur Alliance ship parked in the designated spot, but not nearly surprised as I was when I saw who was organizing the unloading of large grey crates.

"Ashley?" the dark haired marine whirled around and fixed me with a sharp look. As recognition replaced swept across her face, A smile replaced it.

"Michael Liddle, fancy meeting you here. What are you doing out here in the colonies?" her question gave me pause. I was pretty sure I had made it clear were I had intended to go when I left the _Normandy_, but perhaps she had forgotten, it had been years ago.

"Farming, mostly," I answered, "What are you doing here?"

"New Alliance initiative. We're installing GUARDIAN laser systems in some of the outer colonies to defend against Geth incursions." If her unconvincing surprise had awoken my interest, the cover story poured strong coffee down its throat. On Horizon, the Alliance had used the story to cover up their investigation into Cerberus activity. Was Cerberus on Cook's Landing? Were the Collectors headed here?

"Hello, Liddle? You still there?"

"Huh, what?" I looked up. Ashley was standing with her arms crossed across her chest. "Oh, sorry, lost in thought for a bit. What were you saying?"

"I was wondering if you had any time free today. You know, to catch up. Today is three years since…"

"I actually have the day off. I was going to go to a little place downtown that shows vids, they accept requests." I drew the shiny disk from a pocket. The cover glinted in the sun. _Soldiers of the Alliance Frontier_ was scrawled across it in my own hand.

"I'd like that." Ashley said. "Let me get these guys set up and I'll meet you there. Say, around lunch time?"

* * *

Ashley met me at the cozy little theatre shortly after one. I sat outside sipping on a mixture of the local citrus and a dash of something stronger, my fingers drumming on the Romano's package. It was a plastic crate about the size of my head and heavy enough to be a collapsed hardsuit.

"Hey marine!" I turned. Ashley Williams stood there in street clothes, a new sight to me. She had also let her hair out of the severe bun she had always held it in, allowing it to hang prettily just beyond her shoulders. In her hands she held two packs of pale brown bottles. "Hope these are allowed inside, I got a little thirsty on the way over."

"I don't think they'll complain. The owner used to be 109th."

"No shit." Ashley looked amused as I worked my way to my feet. "Today is just full of little coincidences."

"Not really," I said as we walked in. I waved to the owner behind his polished counter and tossed him the disc. He caught it deftly and waved us towards a room at the end of the hallway. "Cook's Landing has an unusually high population of vets; I guess they all enjoy how peaceful it is here."

Ashley and I sat back in comfy padded seats and twisted the caps off of two bottles. Every now and then as the vid played, someone would poke their head into the small theatre. Some would leave, but others would find a seat. I knew a few of them from around town. Somewhere between my second bottle and the bottom of the pack, I raised a reverent toast to the men on the screen. It was in the middle of a brief comedic scene. One he would have liked.

"To Jenkins."

"To Rick." Ashley said a little louder. The bottles clinked as the scene ended dramatically. "God, I miss him. Has it really been three years?"

"Three years without Rick, two and a half without Shepard." I said.

"So you haven't heard anything from her?" Ashley asked suspiciously.

"I haven't learnt to talk to ghosts since I left the _Normandy_, Ash, so no. Unless you know something I don't." Ashley went slightly redfaced.

"Forget I said anything." She said. We sat silently as the vid continued.


	2. Chapter 2: Smoke and Shadows

Interloper 2: Chapter 2

It was a week since my meeting with Ashley Williams. The pale sun rose as it had for the two and a half years I had sat waiting on the planet, looking to the sky and hoping to see the sleek shape of the _Normandy _descending through the clouds. As I stirred in the canvas cot I had slept in at the farm, the rays caught me full in the face. It made my head ache. That or the night I had spent out on the town with Ashley. I dragged myself out of bed and shambled through the motions of getting dressed. I entertained the thought of begging off work again, but quickly set it aside. There would be nothing to do but gulp down water from the spigot and try not to look wretched. I shuffled across the courtyard in step with the rest of the hands and quietly sat at the table. Elizabeth slipped me a small pill of painkillers with a knowing smile. I was infinitely grateful, taking the small thing in hand and swallowing it with a mouthful of juice. The daily tasks were handed out after we had finished a hearty meal. I drew on of my favorite jobs; today I would be harvesting the fruit. I made my way out to the open-bedded truck that would bring the harvest bound hands out to the boats. The citrus fruit grew in the shallows of the freshwater sea just off the shore of the small island. It was a short ride down the beach to the small boathouse. All of the men piled out onto the soft sand, each heading to his own boat. Harvesting was a solitary job at the Romano farm. It would be a long day out amongst the softly swaying bushes that burst from the shallow water, rooted to the sandy bed by sinuous roots. It was also my favorite job; it was peaceful, and the wind smelled pleasant. Most importantly of all, it gave me a degree of privacy impossible in the close confines of the farmhouse. That was why I had hacked the Boss' VI to assign me the job seven times out of ten while we were in the season. I alighted in my skiff, which was little more than a flat board attached to an array of mass effect engines and a large basket. It hummed as I idled over the beach. I shouted a few words to the other hands and set out. Today I had been aside to the far row, the bushes that lay furthest from the shore. From some of the outer trees, I could see the sprawling spaceport, hazy in its distance, along the shore of the opposing island. I gripped a small blade and set about harvesting the fruit. It was pale, purple, and had skin like a waxy lemon, yet it grew almost to the size of a melon.

It was peaceful work, enough so that I was free to let my mind wander. I often left the extra-net radio play in the background to fill the background with either news or music. Today it was tuned to galactic news, which blared as I flitted amongst the bushes. The Phantom fleet was still at large, though by now it had been written off as yet another pirate group of the Terminus systems, albeit one that still embarrassed the Alliance Council. Further news lauded the construction of a new dreadnaught at the Arcturus Naval Shipyards, bringing the Systems Alliance to the edge of its Firaxan treaty allowance. Apparently the ambassador was to speak before the Council petitioning for the right to build further warships. I smiled at that. Ambassador Udina would have his work cut out for him. The speaker on the radio was just going through the various pros and cons of the Alliance joining the Citadel when something small and hard hit me in the back of the head. I turned to see something blue flit away into the foliage. I cursed; this was the only downside of the harvest. The natives. About three feet tall on average, the so-called "blue monkeys" of Cook's landing were a menace to the farmers of the islands. They set up there wicker colonies in coves and up the rivers all over the planet, and they loved the taste of the fruit the planet relied on for trade. Worse, they hated the mass effect; it drove them mad enough to attack with flung rocks.

"They're out in force today." A voice came from behind me. Elisabeth paddled in the shallows of the far row.

"First one I've seen," I remarked. "What brings you out this far?"

"Oh, just checking up on you. You looked a little under the weather this morning." She smiled devilishly. She paddled up to the small skiff and hauled herself aboard. "Also I thought you'd be thirsty." She offered a bottle of juice. I shook the half-full water bottle I kept at my side and declined. "Suit yourself." She began peeling one of the fruits, dropping the skin piece by piece into the water.

After a while in companiable silence, she spoke up. "That soldier from the space port you keep hanging around with, is she a member of Shepard's crew?"

"She was," I answered. "Ashley Williams was our Gunnery Chief."

"So what, she fired the guns?" Liz asked. I chuckled, it wasn't often she got something wrong."

"Not as such." We chatted idly for hours. I found myself relating much of my adventures since I had found myself marooned in a familiar yet unreal universe. "And that's how I saved the known universe from robot-bourne death," I finished.

"Liar." Liz was now sitting back to back with me, looking out across the open ocean. "You'd have a medal or something." I laughed at that; I kept the Alliance's Civilian Service Cross in the bottom of my footlocker. "So did we get an invite to the celebration?"

"Celebration?"

"Yeah, looks like they're setting off some fireworks over by the port." From the tilt of the skiff, Liz was leaning forward. I twisted in my seat to try and see what she was talking about. There were in fact dancing lights in the sky over the capital city, though they looked too low to be fireworks. The whole situation had a strange familiarity. It wasn't until the sound of rolling thunder drifted to us from across the water. This wasn't a celebration, it was an attack.

"We're going back to the house," I said, "you don't happen to be carrying, do you?" I whirled the skiff around and began the trip across the shallows.

"What? A gun? Mike, what's going on?" a hint of confusion and panic had slipped into her voice.

"That'll be a no then." I checked my own pistol unconsciously. "We're under attack; we're going back to the house." We were now skimming across the tops of the shallow waves. The skiff was not designed for two people plus a half of a crate of fruit. The sounds of explosions from the city picked up in pace as we raced towards the shore; the rising smoke was carried above us by a stiff inland breeze.

* * *

We pulled up to the shore amongst a half dozen other small skiffs. Their pilots were nowhere to be seen. I surveyed the narrow beach quickly, finding it clear.

"Where is everyone else," I asked, motioning towards the abandoned skiff.

"I don't know, probably at lunch," Liz replied with a look of concern on her face, "Do you think we missed it?"

"We've got a few more important matters to worry about than whether we miss a meal." I said quickly. I looked over my shoulder at the fires starting to flare amongst the distant buildings. My fist clenched around the handle of my pistol. "Come on, we need to move up along the beach."

"I don't think so." A feeling of static washed down my spine, the wash of powering shields. "Drop the weapon and step away from the girl." The voice was harsh, and obviously filtered through a microphone. _So armoured then, as well as shielded._ I dropped the pistol at my feet and turned around. Three men stood on the beach, clad in black and white armour that covered them, head to toe. Red circles glowed in their helmets, and emblazoned on their chests was a three pointed star. They held rifles in the easy stance of a well-trained group.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Michael Barry Liddle?" the middle one raised a datapad. Displayed on its face was my colonial I.D.

"Yeah, that's me." A took a small step closer_. If I could interpose one of them between me and the others… What I really need is a distraction._

"You're going to need to come with us." The lead man said tonelessly.

"Who are you working for?" I asked, taking another step towards the small group. I tried to think of the people who would want me dead specifically. These men were obviously not raiders.

"Just turn around," one of the flanking men said, "No need to make this… What the…?" he was cut off by an angry hiss.

"Liz, get down!" I shouted. I scooped up my fallen pistol and charged at the distracted attacker. The group had turned at the sudden his and assault of hurled rocks. I slammed into the back of the flanker, hooking my arm around his neck and whirling us both to face his fellows. The man struggled, but I held him fast. I raised my weapon and fired at the back of the lead man. My shots sparked brightly on his shields. He turned, yelling angrily. He returned fire unthinkingly, smattering his ally with his fire. The man's shields sparked threateningly, sending tendrils of static along my arm. I pulled us both to the ground, still firing. A shot got through, catching the other man in the knee plate. He went down, thrashing and cursing. The third attacker was now firing at me as well. His partner was now thrashing about desperately, taxing my ability to hold him in front of me. I shoved him savagely towards the other, stripping him of his rifle. I fired both weapons at his back. He flailed, fell, and lay still. I ran at the last man. He had stooped to duck away from his falling companion. I drove my attack forward. I activated my Omni-tool, selecting an old favorite. My arm was wreathed in electrical discharge as I drove a fist into the man's gut. The strike made my hand go numb, but it also collapsed his shields. I shoved him away and gave him a hosing with the dead man's assault rifle. He flopped limply backwards, his armour ruined.

"You killed them," Liz squeaked behind me. I turned to see her face a frightened mask, eyes locked on the pile of fallen enemies.

"They were shooting at us." I grimaced as muscles long unused twinged. I kicked one over. His blood shone red on the sand. I knelt beside him. His armour was ruined, too much to salvage anyway. I reached under his chin.

"What are you doing?" Liz was still hugging the ground as if glued to it.

"Checking for… Here it is." I levered the receiver module from his helmet and plugged it into place atop my Omni-tool. "Let's see who these guys are working for." The receiver buzzed as it powered up. Soon, voices could be heard echoing on the channel.

"…3rd team down by the beach, I heard shooting."

"3rd Team, report!" an authoritative voice barked. "Damn it, Carver, the Broker will have your head for this if you're screwing around. Did you locate Liddle, or what?"

* * *

Author's Note:

And so the plot begins. This is where you'll start to see some more substantial departures from canon. Obviously the primary threat is still the Collectors, Liddle doesn't have nearly enough sway to alter events that far, but I'm hoping that what he has changed will provide for some fun side action. As always, I continue to be amazed by the positive response, keep writing those reviews.

-Liddle Out


	3. Chapter 3: The Return

Interloper 2: Chapter 3

"Damn it, Carver, the Broker will have your head for this if you're screwing around. Did you locate Liddle, or what?" I stood stunned. The Shadow Broker was here, after me. It didn't make sense. I was just a very small fish, not worth notice by the head of a hidden empire, not worth an attack in broad daylight on a human colony. "That's it, Carver, once we're down putting down these local dirt scratchers, I am personally coming over there to put boot to ass." That got my attention.

"He's not talking about dad and the others, is he?" Liz worriedly asked. She was jittery, the way she always got when she was worried. I laid what I hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Your dad can take care of himself, Lizzers, don't worry about him."

"You know I hate it when you call me that," she sniffed. She blinked back tears. "Are you going to go help them? Being a war hero…"

"Yeah…" I knelt again and looked the agent's rifle up and down. It had been modified for thermal clips, although much more expertly than my own. I stripped the three agents of their spares. "Here, take this." I pulled one of the men's sidearms from the magnetic clip it hung from. As I passed it from my hand to hers, I was stung by tiny streamers of violet lightning. "Oi, watch it." I almost dropped the weapon.

"Oops, sorry," Liz looked sheepish. "You know how I get when I'm nervous." She took the gun in shaky hands and seemed to draw some strength from the cold metal.

"Just stay behind me," I began as I started the walk down to the farmhouse.

"Yeah, they can save ammo that way. One round will get us both," Liz said. I looked us both over. I wore a coarse set of pants and a nu-cotton t-shirt, Liz wore much the same. Between us there was little chance of stopping a round.

"Just… stay down then," I said. We remained quiet as we approached the farm. Soon the sharp rattle of military-strength weapons fire reached my ears. Accompanying it was the weak *pop pop* of the farm's varmint hunting rifles. That was both good and bad news. Good because the farmers were still resisting, bad because it put a time restraint on taking out the Broker's agents. A dozen hands with low powered popguns wouldn't last long against even a handful of shielded and armoured men.

"It sounds like there's a lot of them," Liz remarked as we drew closer. I could see the flashes now. I tried to count the number and positions, but they shifted too fast to keep track of.

"Could be," I mused, "Could be they've just got a really big gun." My assessment didn't seem to calm her any. "We need to get to the garage."

"Why, what's in there?"

"I need to get to an extranet terminal; your dad might not have called in the militia yet."

"The militia's probably tied up in the capital," Liz stated. She had started to calm now that she was thinking. "And besides, they'll need to gather up, deal with whatever's still causing issues over there, and make their way here. That'll take too long."

"Maybe, but they need to be alerted. And besides, I have a few friends on planet that might show up a little faster than the militia." There was truth in that. Two and a half years is a lot of time to make a few contacts, even for a small time information broker like the yellowjacket. I tried to sort through the sort list of those who owed me favors and those who owed me credits, but the process made my head hurt. It had been a while since breakfast, and my head was getting a little fuzzy. Perhaps it would be better to just call them all, and hope enough showed up to drive the Shadow Broker's forces away. I'd have to keep the identity of the attackers to myself for now; of course, it wouldn't do to scare of potential rescuers. "Just hang back; it'll be easier for one of us to sneak in."

"Then maybe the person who isn't six feet tall should try to do it," Liz suggested.

"Fine, we'll both go," I relented, "stick close." I bent nearly double as I rushed towards the nearest of the prefab outbuildings. The sharp rattling drew closer as I flattened myself to the back wall. I gave the rifle a look over. The device for ejecting and reloading was unfamiliar to me; hopefully I wouldn't need to reload too often. "Here we go." I dashed out from behind the building, making for the safety of a nearby pile of packing crates. I caught a glance of the main courtyard as I ran. It wasn't pretty. Two men already lay sprawled in the mud. I heard the muted gasp from behind me and hoped she would keep running. The face of the farmhouse was riddled with holes. Men in black and white armour closed from all directions. And then they were out of view, covered by unpainted steel. Thankfully, Liz fell to a crouch beside me, looking green.

"I knew them, Joe and Steve. I sat next to them this morning."

"I knew them too, Lizzers. They were good guys, brave guys. Come on, we're almost there." The entrance to the garage was ajar, but the run towards it was open, without cover or concealment. The only way to do it would be to dash, hoping the time it took for them to react to us was longer than the time it took to span the gap. "You're going to have to go first, I'll follow and distract them," I said. Liz nodded, gripping her handgun tightly. I readied my own weapon, hoping the agents were having a particularly bad day. "Go!" I barked the last command. Liz bent into her sprint, legs pumping as she blazed towards the garage. I gave her a second's head start and leapt out myself. One of the agents had noticed us; he was already drawing a bead on Liz. I fired in his direction, not taking the time to aim. My flurry didn't land any significant blows, but it was enough distraction to allow my friend to clear the doors. I dropped into my own run. Rounds tore at the air behind me, and then they were gone, rattling against the heavy metal door or sparking as they pierced it. Shrapnel grazed my cheek.

"Well that was close." I took some steadying breaths and crawled deeper into the building. Liz had already reached the back wall, where she stooped over a glowing terminal. From her terse muttering, she was calling the militia headquarters back in the city. I rose just enough to haul my gear from the workbench, a comm. headset, a personal shield emitter harness, and the modified Mattock. I pushed a clip into the more familiar mechanism with a thumb and powered the weapon up. Thankfully, it popped open to its full extension with a low whine.

"You in there! Come out with your hands up! No more of your little friends need to die today!" the voice was at the doors. I peered from the back of the room. By the look of the shadows, the map was on the right side. I shouldered the weapon and brought my head to the sights. A trio of rounds lit the dim interior of the garage a fraction of a second before the high pitched twang of the metal door and the hiss of damaged shields betrayed the attacker's location. I fired two more shots and was rewarded with the wet smack of a body hit. Something heavy slumped against the door.

More shouts could be heard now, shouts of anger at the flanking attack and shouts ordering more men to the garage. I checked the indicator. Eleven shots left. Not enough for the squad that held the farm under siege. The crunch of boots outside alerted me to another assault. Another pair of shots drove the pointman back. Something small and round bounced in instead. I realized what it was too late. "Grenade!"

The grenade lit up the garage with a flash that blinded me and a sound that filled my ears with a painful ringing. I pulled the trigger blindly, feeling the rifle slam repeatedly against my shoulder. …three…two….one… empty. I pulled the charging handle to eject the spent clip. Nothing happened. I pulled it again. Still nothing. Somebody took a handful of my shirt and dragged me forward. The rifle clattered to the floor. I pulled hard against the grip. Suddenly the fingers loosened. I fell to my knees on the floor, blinking rapidly to clear the bright lights. My hand found the rifle and tugged, even as a club it would be better that my bare hands. Someone was standing on it, their boot inches from my fingers.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice I hadn't heard in far too long said from somewhere above my head. I blinked away the last of the lights. Standing in plain, slate grey armour, short hair the colour of bronze curled beneath her ears, was Commander Shepard. Her face was creased by livid orange scars that twisted their way across the bridge of her nose and curled all the way to her chin on her left cheek. Beneath the maze of surgical scarring, her skin was smoother than I remembered, as if brand new.

"Commander." I pulled my hand from the rifle and made to stand. Shepard grasped me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. I sketched a loose salute. "You're late."

* * *

A small party stood around the small farmhouse. Several more sat, leaned, or lay on the floor. One knelt by the side of a wounded man. The Boss had caught a round high in the shoulder and now lay propped up, his clothes quickly staining a dark red.

"Commander Shepard? Aren't you supposed to be dead?" he croaked.

"I was," the Commander replied, "I'm sorry I couldn't have been here sooner, Major Romano."

"Ha, I haven't been 'Major' for a very long time. I believe you were just a Chief yourself back then." He groaned and clutched at his shoulder. Elizabeth sniffed and whispered something. "Buck up, kiddo, it'll take more than this to put me down."

"Stop it, dad, you're really hurt." She almost cried. Shepard put a gauntleted hand on her shoulder.

"Your dad's a tough soldier, Elizabeth. He'll make it through. See, the medigel's already taking."

"Shepard, we should leave before the authorities make themselves present," A new voice joined the conversation. "The major is stabilized, and in case you forgot, we have a timetable to keep to." The women in the white bodysuit turned away from the open window. She stalked across the room to take a place at the commander's side.

"I think we have time at least for this, Miranda," Shepard grated. She turned her attention to the man on the floor. "You've made some powerful enemies, Romano."

"What was I supposed to do, just hand the boy over?" He chuckled darkly. "Tell me, Shepard, these people you work for now, can they protect us?"

"We have the resources, but we can't guarantee these people won't find you," Miranda said.

"I figured that." The Boss sighed. "I take it you're taking Liddle with you?"

"We are, sir," Shepard spoke now. He nodded. He motioned for me to come closer. I knelt beside him and Liz.

"Liddle, I want to thank you for keeping my little girl safe today, and before you go, I have one last job for you. Continue to keep her safe. If these people can't keep me and mine safe, I'd prefer she'd go with you."

"I will, sir."

"Good. Commander, I assume you can find space for her somewhere on your boat."

"Shepard, we can't just…" Miranda started, but was cut off.

"I think I get to make that call."

"Of course, Shepard," Miranda relented. She stalked off and made the call for pickup. The room was quiet except for the small sounds of daughter bidding goodbye to father.

* * *

Deckplate once again thrummed under my feet as the black and yellow marked shuttle rose high into the air, making for orbit. We had left just before a mass of emergency vehicles had descended on the farm. The ride was smooth, allowing me to relax somewhat from the events of the day. Beside me sat Liz, a small bag clutched in her arms. Across from us sat Shepard and Miranda, to whom I had yet to be introduced. In fact, I had yet to be told anything, which was beginning to get on my nerves. Further down the small cabin sat Garrus, who had greeted me warmly when I had met him outside the farmhouse. That told me Shepard had at least gone to Omega, if that had been where Garrus had spent the last two years. Soon enough, the shuttle dropped to rest on the metal floor of its destination. The hatch popped open with a hiss. The members of the small group started to file out. I was last through the door, stepping out onto the steel grate floor. The hold was cavernous compared the original _Normandy_, with great glass panes set high in the back wall. A few crewmen flitted about the bay, while others ran up to the shuttle with tools in hand. All wore the yellow on black of Cerberus. Ahead of me, Shepard was talking to her team. The broke off as I approached, Miranda stalking off towards the crew deck while Garrus offered his arm to the frightened Liz. Shepard headed straight for me.

"You probably have some questions," was all she said.

"A few," I admitted, "Your office then?"

"Give me half a minute to change." The Commander plucked at her armour plating.

* * *

Shepard's cabin was more sparsely appointed than I remembered. While a few model ships already hung on pegs across the wall that divided office from living quarters, the fish tank that should have dominated an entire wall was absent, replaced by a projection of the galactic map. Her armour stood on a stand in the corner. Shepard herself was finishing with the cuffs of a plain black uniform in the style of Alliance dress blues. I noticed with a small smile that where the double hexagon of Cerberus should sit were only a few loose threads. It looked like Shepard hadn't entirely gone to the dark side.

"So," the woman began.

"So," I agreed, "You're alive."

"You don't seem as surprised as I'd expected." Shepard walked up and took a seat on her desk.

"I figured that it was next to impossible to survive reentry, giving you about even odds of coming back." Shepard laughed at that. "I noticed you seem to have picked up some new sponsors." Her smile faltered slightly.

"You don't miss much, do you? I wanted to tell you before you came aboard, but there were too many witnesses."

"So, Cerberus." It wasn't a question. I thought I knew the whole of it, but I was wrong.

"Yes, but it's more complex than that." Shepard's voice was strained a little. "It's part of the reason you've become involved. Sit down, this is a long story."

Shepard spoke truthfully, and after she was done, the pieces had fallen into place. Up until the destruction of the _Normandy, _I knew the story, but after that it changed. Cerberus was reeling; the Phantom Fleet was still out there hunting their bases wherever it found them. With so many of its resources either destroyed or on the move, the Illusive man's secret empire had been unable to swipe the Commander's body from the clutches of the Shadow Broker. Instead, the two shadow empires had come to an agreement, they would share the cost of the Lazarus Project, each wanting their own share of Shepard. Cerberus, of course wanted its savior, while the Broker demanded a brainwashed enforcer. The SR-2 itself was also split between the two, half the crew being loyal to the Broker.

"And so Cerberus made off with you, so to speak?" I picked my words carefully. The whole situation had me in the dark somewhat.

"So to speak, the Illusive Man believes he needs me completely as I was, he couldn't accept anything less. He "stole" me and the ship shortly after our shakedown cruise."

"That still doesn't explain how I'm involved in this," I said.

"The Shadow Broker wants to regain control. If he can't brainwash me, he'll get to me through my old crew. Ash was down there too, which is why it took us so long to get to you. Garrus ran into the Broker's agents on Omega, and we've intercepted reports of an attack on the Flotilla." Her voice was cold now, angry.

"Tali?" I asked worriedly.

"Is fine." Shepard raised her hands to assure me. "There's something else." She slid a datapad across the desk to where I could see it. "Know anything about this?" from the look of it, it was one of the Illusive Man's dossiers. Scanning it, I recognized my own face. I checked the header, where the subject codename would be kept. "The Interloper, isn't that something that Sovereign called you back on Illos?"

"I don't know what it means," I lied. "Does this mean I'm on the team that's going against these, what did you call them?"

"Collectors. And yes, although there's a good chance some of us might not come back. Honestly, none of us might come back."

"I'm with you, Shepard," I assured her. There was no way I would continue sitting on the sidelines.

"Good." Shepard stood and stretched. "I hope you kept your badge, Deputy."


	4. Chapter 4: Unfamiliar Faces

Interloper 2: Chapter 4

I still had the badge of a Spectre's Deputy that Jenkins and I had stamped out of thin steel. It sat pinned to the chest of an Alliance uniform, creased from long storage in the bottom of a footlocker as I made my way from the crew quarters to the flight deck meeting room. Upon exiting the surprisingly swift elevator, I turned to pass through the armoury and continue on to the briefing. The door refused to open. I stood there and waved at it a bit. It still didn't open. I looked back over my shoulder to make sure no one had seen me. While I was looking away, the door moved quietly open.

"Can I help you?" the buzzing voice of a drell asked. I looked back, meeting large circular eyes set in a pale green, almost reptilian face.

"Oh, thanks, Thane," I said without thinking. The drell laughed, it was a gurgling sound that seemed to rattle from deep in his chest.

"You do me an honor, naming me one of the Compact, but no. My name is Feron." The name slid into place somewhere in my brain.

"You work for the Shadow Broker?" the drell's placid face gave no sign of surprise, but his voice seemed less modulated when he spoke.

"I did, until recently. Now, I am Shepard's. Tell me human, how is it that you knew this?"

"Shepard told me, of course," I bluffed. It seemed to work.

"I see. You are on the way to the briefing then?" I nodded. "Then allow me to join you, this is the way." We both walked down the short corridor that bridged the science lab to the armoury until a door at the midway point opened, revealing a lively discussion in progress. We stepped inside and the doors closed smoothly behind us. Shepard stood at the head of the room, flanked by Miranda and Garrus. The salarian who could only be Mordin Solus stood to the side, muttering to himself. On the other side of the table, there stood a strange man that I didn't recognize. He wore a solid black suit of armour with a glossy finish and bore the look of a man who didn't suffer nonsense. He wore his blond hair cropped close and his face remained locked in a look of constant disdain. Beside him stood a bald man with a narrow goatee; his eyes were shifty and his demeanor nervous. Something about him struck me as familiar. Shepard was currently talking to the surly blonde.

"And that's another thing, four security officers is not nearly enough," she finished.

"Commander, this isn't a military vessel. Four is plenty enough to secure the vessel in the event of a boarding, and that's ignoring the group of specialists we have been tasked with building," Miranda interceded.

"Yeah, and I'd be able to do my job much better if that has-been merc wasn't set up in my office," the man said.

"Look, Daniels, Miranda; I see where you're coming from, but that's not how I run my ship. Is it possible to increase the size of the security contingent?"

"I'm afraid not, Commander. All of Cerberus' security assets have either been targeted by the Broker or are otherwise engaged," Miranda chimed back in.

"Okay, I guess we'll have to make do." Shepard looked down at a datapad. "Next on the agenda, our new recruits." The room paused and looked at me. "Liddle will need some armour. Wilson, see that he's taken care of." She shot a sidelong glance at the goateed man. "Now, to get to the meat of the issue, I think it's time to bring everyone up to speed on the mission. This is what we face." She tapped something into the briefing room's table interface. An insectoid form sketched itself in thin red lines of light in the air above the table. I stared at the thing, its bipedal stance, wide, four-eyed face, and long curving cowl that swept back across its head and ended in a point. "The Collectors, insectoid aliens that have been spotted in known space for decades. No one knows who or what they are, all we know is that about six months back they started targeting Human colonies. Whole populations gone with no evidence of a fight or struggle. We caught them in the act though, on the planet Watson. A Javelin missile silo managed to get a shot off and damage one of their smaller ships. The data we recovered points to them coming from beyond the Omega-4 Relay. Our mission is to find a way to traverse the relay, strike the Collectors where they life, and make sure they don't threaten another human colony again." The room was silent, each member running the facts through their heads. "There's another thing, we have cause to believe they may have a connection to the Reapers."

"So what's our next step, Shepard?" it was Garrus who asked.

"I'm glad you asked. Here's what's going on…."

* * *

The meeting broke up shortly afterwards. Everyone had an assignment of some form, be it familiarizing themselves with the ship's weapons systems, to my own job of suiting myself up. I followed the shorter bald man out towards the armoury.

"So Wilson," I began, trying to avoid the feeling that I was forgetting something crucial, "How'd you end up on the _Normandy_?"

"Easy, really. I was part of the Lazarus Project; I'm also a fair hand at mech programming. Ship needed a Mech Chief, and I'm it."

"Are there a lot of mechs aboard?" I asked as we stepped through the doors into the room stacked with guns of all shapes and sizes, not having remembered any in the game.

"Of course, with Cerberus manpower being what it is, we had to replace the security detail with my mechs. Not that you'd know, the way the Commander goes on. She's old fashioned like that I guess." He finished nervously. "So, you'll be needing armour." He brought me over to wide opening in the wall about the size of an oven. The inside shone like fluid mercury. "Of course we fabricate all our own armour, cheaper that way once you break the copy protection. Here, I'll show you. The baseline model's up to Alliance N7 specs, but you can swap out just about any part." He brought up a shimmering menu in the air. I flipped through, picking parts as they struck my fancy.

"Here, I think that'll do." I stepped back and looked at the resulting suit of plates.

"Yeah, you'll have to add an extra power pack to work those though." Wilson pulled another component and placed it on the assembly. "Right, let's fire it up." The hole in the wall pulsed with a light similar to that of an Omni-tool. Tiny filaments of metal and ceramic began to stitch themselves together in the center of the device, suspended by the purple-black of a mass effect field. Finally, a folded suit of hard plates and rubbery underlayer clattered noisily to the bottom of the shelf. I pulled it out and spent the next half hour familiarizing myself with the process of putting it on and off again. It was the same dark green as my last suit, the colour of polished bloodstone, with red highlights around the shoulders and waist to match. The chest plate, of Armax Arsenal design, was molded in a split v, with a prominent ridge that ran from navel to throat. The shoulders bore the rings of shield amplifiers, as did the belt harness. Also hanging from the belt was a leg pouch that held hot-swappable ammo blocks. A spare supply of thermal clips was belted to my upper arm. The helmet in my hands was a smooth grey and completely opaque. The Kestrel headgear gave the impression of some massive dragonfly. I stood bedecked in the full suit when Garrus walked in, wearing his own, heavily scarred armour.

"Suits you, Liddle. You look like a soldier again," he noted appreciatively.

"And you look like a mess. Get in a fight with a Gunship while I was gone?"

"Good guess. Turns out the gangs of Omega don't take kindly to having their affairs messed with." The turian walked the length of the room and picked up an equally scarred sniper rifle. "Looks like this one needs scrapping, Wilson."

"I'll get you a new one as soon as we take on more platinum," The man said, taking the rifle from Garrus' hands.

"I'll miss that gun," the former C-Sec officer said, shaking his head sadly. "We've been through a lot together." He wandered across to the off white Mattock that sat on a nearby table, "This yours?"

"Yeah, I've been working on it for a while," I said.

"An odd choice. At least this means you can stop mutilating poor undeserving sniper rifles."

"My thoughts exactly." I smiled. "So how've you been?"

"Hunted across every inch of Omega, and you?" Garrus said with a chuckle. "Apart from that, I've been good. Ever since I left C-Sec I've been getting things done, really accomplishing things. I've lost some people, yes, but they knew the cause was just. I even spent a few weeks in a Blue Suns prison about five months back after they cornered me in my headquarters. You should have seen it." He looked off, as if into a great distance. "And I hear you took up farming."

"Gotta keep yourself busy." I said weakly. "So how'd you get out of the prison?"

"Fun thing about the Blue Suns' _Purgatory_ prison ship, it's in space. There's literally nowhere to run. Now, to your run of the mill thugs and screw-ups, that alone is enough to keep them in line, but the guards aren't used to dealing with a brilliant tactical mind like mine."

"So how'd you get out?" I repeated.

"Well you see, I sent a message to my father, and he ended up calling in a Hierarchy cruiser..."

* * *

It was early in the next duty cycle when we found out where our next destination lay. I had spent the small hours either reminiscing with Garrus or comforting Liz. Fortunately, her father had pulled through; the ER staff on Cook's Landing performing a miracle. He would lose the arm, and without the money for a vat-grown would need cybernetics, but he was alive.

"Good morning passengers, this is your pilot speaking," the voice of Joker echoed on every deck, "in about half an hour, we'll be pulling alongside beautiful Zakara Ward. Please keep all arms and legs inside the spaceship until we come to a complete stop. Thank you."

"Are we really going to the Citadel?" Liz asked cheerily, "I've always wanted to go." We sat at the small crew table in the mess area, eating a tasteless brew of oatmeal and what was advertised as apple.

"It's alright," I muttered, distracted. I had been trying to find a way past the Normandy's firewalls for much of the night, but the computer worm I had been given by one of my contacts just wasn't up to the task. It was annoying to be cut off from my yellowjacket data.

"Yeah, it's only the seat of galactic government," She said, "Do you think the Commander'll let me bring back some souvenirs?"

"I'm sure she'll let you keep a few things." The resounding *clunk* of the docking tube pulsed through the hull. "Ready to go?"

"Am I." we both pulled ourselves to our feet and dropped off our bowls with the surly Mess Sergeant. He grunted gruffly and we were on our way up to the airlock. Shepard intercepted us on the elevator.

"You know you're going to have to check that thing while you're on the Citadel?" My hand went protectively to my hip holster. "You won't have all the powers of a deputized citizen until I meet with the council."

"I… uh… yeah. I suppose." I said glumly. I hadn't thought of that.

* * *

"A Devlon Stinger, can't say I've seen one of those in a while." The turian C-Sec officer said as she took my sidearm. Her eyes followed the two scars that stitched their way down one side. "I bet this one's seen some stories."

"You have no idea." I said, accepting the receipt. Shepard had been ushered off into a side passage after being recognized as dead, leaving the small shore party to its own devices. Without orders to attend the Council meeting, Liz and I had made plans to go out into the shopping district a few floors up. But before I left for that, I had some over business to attend to. I unfurled my Omni-tool, now free of the steel cage of the Normandy's cyber-defenses and with access to high speed extranet for the first time in an age. I covertly opened up my yellowjacket application, flipping through the queued actions. A few were routine, a bribe here, some flattery there, my customary flowers for Admiral Hackett's aide and the governor of Cook's Landing's favorite chocolate's to be sent and a packet of data to be received by secure dropbox. More importantly though, was a drafted letter to the Admiralty Board of the quarian Migrant Fleet. The letter I had agonized over for some time. It accused one of their number of illegal experimentation with Geth parts. The charge would most likely be treason. Part of me worried about how Tali would react to her father's work being shut down, but another part remembered how torn up she had been over her father's death. In the end the latter won out, and I sent the message spiraling away over the comm. buoys. I was about to back out and join my friend from the Landing when I noticed a flashing icon, not in yellowjacket, but in my conventional mail program. I opened it up, curious.

_I have seen the evidence of your sting. I have heard the buzz of your passing. I'll be seeing you soon._


	5. Chapter 5: Recommissioned

Interloper 2: Chapter 5

I read the short message again, in case there had been some kind of mistake. No, it had been sent to my personal extranet account. The sender was anonymous, but the signature was a clear reference to my alter ego as the information broker, yellowjacket. My mind raced, who would use that kind of poetic language? It sounded almost like Aria T'Loak, the asari queen of Omega, although I had thought myself below her notice. She also had a tendency to be much less subtle with her threats. The Shadow Broker would have sent a bullet, not a message.

"You okay, you're looking pretty pale?" my mind came back to my immediate surroundings.

"Huh?"

"I said you look a little pale."

"Just the oatmeal I think, that Gardner needs to learn the difference between 'imitation' and mockery."

"OK," the girl looked unconvinced, "So you still coming with me?"

"Of course I am," I said. I tried to look happy as we walked through and among the various stores. I saw clothes and fashions both fascinating and bizarre, stopped by a stand selling the latest Omni-tool games, and ate at an asari restaurant that served a delicious calamari. I was just paying for the meal when a harried looking C-Sec agent jogged up.

"Michael Liddle?" he asked after he had caught his breath.

"That's me, can I help you?" I said. It didn't look like I was in trouble, they would have sent more if I was under arrest. I kept my guard up though, surely the Shadow Broker had the resources to acquire a C-Sec uniform.

"You've been requested at the Alliance embassy. I assume you know the way?" the man was either an excellent actor, or he truly resented being sent on errands. I relaxed a little.

"Yes, thank you." The man left us at a much slower walk. I watched him go before turning to Liz. "Looks like I've been summoned."

* * *

The Alliance embassy had changed very little. In fact, the Citadel as a whole had barely changed. The Presidium still thronged with diplomats, off duty soldiers, and lobbyists as they packed between the parks and waterways. It was really very serene, unblemished by the Reaper attack that had never come. It showed in the faces of passers-by and the near lack of security even here in the heart of Council space. At the port I had simply had to declare my weapon, no scans had been performed as I walked from the ship. It was as if a multi-kilometer long alien dreadnaught hadn't destroyed a good portion of an Alliance fleet just three years ago.

The door chimed as I entered the embassy. Three faces turned as one, each wearing a different mask of emotions. Shepard looked hopeful, though a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. Newly promoted Admiral Anderson looked stern, a look he often wore when I was in the same room. This time, however, his discomfort didn't seem to be aimed at me. Donnel Udina, ambassador to the Council, was of course furious.

"You took your sweet time." Udina said in lieu of a greeting. I bit back a retort and gave what I hoped was a pleasant smile.

"Hello Commander, Admiral, _Ambassador._" I tried to heap as much emphasis on the word ambassador as I could get away with. It made the man bristle.

"Late or not, it's good you're here," the Admiral said, still looking uncomfortable, "Shepard, will you do the honours?"

"I'd be happy too." Shepard stepped around the low table they had been standing at. She approached until she was standing a few feet in front of me. "Michael B. Liddle of the colony Cook's Landing, in the presence of witnesses I formally deputize you under the terms of the Treaty of Praxis. You are under my authority until such a time as I release you from service. Welcome to duty, Deputy."

"Good, now we can get on to some real business," the indignant ambassador broke in. "Now, Shepard, is there any truth behind these rumors that you're working for Cerberus now?"

"I'm not working for them, Ambassador; I'm using their resources and some of the former resources of the Shadow Broker to pursue this threat until _I _can put an end to it."

"You are aware that the Alliance military is currently prosecuting a campaign in the Terminus systems to root out both the so called "Phantom Fleet" and the terrorist organization known as Cerberus? Admiral Anderson penned the order himself." Udina shot back sharply.

"The Ambassador had a point for once, Shepard," Anderson said. "Come back to the Alliance, I can get you a ship, maybe even a squadron. If you have proof of this Collector threat, we can put it before the Alliance Council on Arcturus Station."

"You know I can't do that, Admiral. I need to move fast, behind the lines, and free from Alliance regulations and supply lines."

"Be that as it may, you are still in collusion with an enemy of the state." Udina walked to the open balcony before turning back to the room. "But if these Collectors are truly the threat to humanity you claim, we can't rely on the bureaucrats in the Councils to make up their minds. God knows they're being obstinate enough over a few dreadnaughts. I will try to delay a formal inquiry into your reappearance for as long as possible."

"Thank you, Ambassador." Shepard sounded as surprised as I felt. It was an impressive olive branch for the man who had always been nothing but obstructive.

"If you are dead set on tearing off on your own, can you at least let us in on your plans?" Anderson asked. "This team you're building, you mentioned that it was incomplete."

"It is. We're gathering some of the best in the field, techs, biotics, soldiers, even scientists. Our next objective is to find a krogan by the name of Okeer who may have made contact with these Collectors in the past. We'll pick him up, find out what he knows, then maybe put him to use. If not, we leave him be and Cerberus will put a watch on him in case the Collectors come back."

"Okeer? I've heard about him," Anderson said, "He's a krogan so mad they don't even want him on Tuchanka, are you sure it's wise to bring him on board, Shepard?"

"Okeer's one of our best leads as far as the Collector's motives go. I think we can trust him as long as he gets what he wants."

"Yes, but at what costs?" Anderson muttered. "Never mind. Where is this Okeer?"

"Our intel puts him on the Blue Suns held Korlus. We'll make an insertion near nightfall…"

Xxx

The meeting wrapped close to the beginning of the Citadel's "night" cycle. Shepard declined Anderson's offer of overnight accommodations in Alliance officer territory, but she begged off in favour of returning to her ship. I followed closely, my mind on the upcoming mission. I took the Stinger back from a different officer and made my way up the docking tube and into the Normandy. Shepard bid me goodnight at the elevator, leaving me to wait as it ascended to the Commander's cabin. I looked around the flight deck, taking in the lights and displays, the slowly spinning galaxy map, and the soft sounds of Joker asleep in his piloting couch. It was nice to be home.

Xxx

The next day, the SR-2 was abuzz as we prepared to head off for the Terminus Systems. I spent the morning supervising the utility mechs as they loaded crate after crate into the cavernous hold. It wasn't particularly interesting work, but I kept an eye open none the less. Three installments of the Mass Effect series had given me a healthy suspicion of the white armoured robots. I whistled tunelessly as the mechs streamed back and forth. Every now and then I checked the content of a crate. I was just lifting the lid on a tub of actual vegetables when a second crewmember entered the hold.

"Oh, I didn't know anyone was down here." Wilson was standing in the elevator with his Omni-tool aglow.

"Wilson," I gave him a short nod, "Just making sure no one slips something aboard." He laughed nervously.

"I bet nothing gets past you, eh?" he said. He had put himself between me and a smaller crate being hauled by one of his own mechs, not one of the Citadel's. His eyes refused to meet mine. The face was so familiar, he had to be a… _Wilson…_

"Wait, you said you were part of the Lazarus Project?" I asked.

"That's right." He looked at me now like a frightened rabbit. He mech he was trying to cover up froze behind him. Something clicked in the now shady recesses of my memory.

"You're working for the Shadow Broker, aren't you?" I accused as I laid a hand on the stubby butt of my pistol. I advanced on the man, who moved alongside the mech now. The mech itself produced a sidearm from somewhere. We stood locked like that until Wilson spoke.

"No! I mean, yes, I did take some money from the Broker back before Cerberus made a deal for Shepard's body. But by then we were on the same side."

"Until Cerberus made off with this ship," I noted. Wilson winced.

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I don't know how you knew about the Broker, but think about it. Would Shepard let me stay if she didn't trust me, would Miranda?" an image of the statuesque brunette pulling a gun on the nervous little man in cold blood flitted across my mind.

"I suppose not." I pulled my hand away from my weapon, as did the mech. "What's in the crate?"

"Oh, the crate, it's, err… Nothing, there's nothing in the crate." Wilson was a particularly bad liar. I rounded on the mech and flipped the catches on the lid. I couldn't help but smile as I peeked inside.

"Tell you what, if you let me have one of these, maybe I'll forget you ever heard of the Shadow Broker."

* * *

Author's Note:

Bit of a short chapter I'm afraid, but the next bit should have some action in it, honest. Since i will be on break this next week, you can expect an extra chapter or two, and maybe even a side story I've been working on. So stay tuned.

-Liddle Out


	6. Chapter 6: Korlus

Interloper 2: Chapter 6

"Nervous?" Liz twisted a finger through a strand of her curly brown hair and looked on from her perch atop one of the armoury's disused shelves. We both sat around one of the free workbenches, not the well-worn table I was used to, but what it lacked in fond memories it made up for in a wide array of high tech gizmos.

"Almost never," I quipped as I dug into the frame of the useless Mattock. Having refused Wilson's offer of a much newer Avenger Pattern assault rifle or one of the M-29 Incisors that Shepard was toting, I had been forced to return the modified rifle to working order. It lay open on the table, half melted sodium and copper that had once been a thermal clip sticking from the welded shut ejection port.

"Ooh, you are such a liar," Liz jabbed playfully, "your saying you're not nervous about taking that dinky little shuttle down to a planet inhabited almost entirely by mercenaries to go play diplomat with a krogan?"

"I've had worse, I used to ride down in a tank," I replied. The entangled clip popped out with a snap, revealing the mess of half formed wiring below. I reached for another of Wilson's contraband strawberries.

"You never did!" she exclaimed. "Really, a tank?"

"Well, more of an armoured personnel carrier. The Mako was probably the best part of riding around with Shepard, other than perhaps the world saving." I said. "Anyway, could you hold this; I need to lay this wiring back in, route it around the ejector system this time." She walked around the table and held back one of the tabs that held the rifle together while I fired up my Omni-tool and watched as it assembled the wires tiny bit at a time. This was really a job for the Normandy's automated fabber-probe, but I liked to get my own hand in every now and again.

"From what I hear around, the Mako wasn't the _only_ advantage of traveling with Shepard." She released the catch as I withdrew my Omni-tool. The parts of the rifle snapped back together neatly and smoothly. The built in indicator lights blinked on one at a time until the entire board lit up green.

"How do you mean?" I reloaded the weapon and checked the system. It cold-cycled nicely.

"I think you know. Friendly, genius, bright blue? You never told me you went out with an asari."

"I…" we were interrupted by the near silent swish of the armoury doors opening. Standing in the doorway was an imposing man in a drab grey jumpsuit. He stepped through, revealing a mass of dark blue tattoos that wound their way up his massive arms. His face was a wreck, a wide circle cut deep into the skin around a ruined eye. When he spoke, it was with a voice worn gravely by a life of shouting.

"Well do go on, I didn't mean to interrupt playtime," he said after a dismissive look around the room. He clomped across the deck plate and began pulling weapons down from the racks. He gave each one a cursory glance before dropping them back into the pile.

"We're not children," Liz said snippily, "Michael's a war hero."

"Oh really? My apologies, I didn't know I was in the presence of a guddamn war hero. Ha! How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-Six." I said quickly.

"Let me see… Twenty six years, I've been a merc longer than that. I've been carrying a rifle since before you were born, no one ever made me a 'War Hero.' Why don't you tell me that one again after you've been in a war with some teeth." He snatched up an armful of weapons and headed back out onto the flight deck.

"Who even was that?" Liz asked in hushed tones after it was fairly safe to assume the gruff mercenary was out of earshot.

"That's Zaeed Massani," I enlightened her; "Commander Shepard says Cerberus has put him on retainer for the rest of the mission."

"He's not very nice." Liz looked distractedly at the flight deck door, as if worried the man might come back.

"I don't think we hired him for his conversational ability. If what his dossier says is true, he's a survivor and a fighter. He's done tons of missions." I didn't notice the frighteningly high proportion of men under his command didn't come back.

* * *

Six of us stood in single file in the cargo bay as the Normandy dropped out of FTL over the soupy green-grey ball of Korlus. It spun slowly below us, separated by a razor thin force field and miles of empty space. The six of us struck an odd sight, each different from the next. At the head of the line, Shepard had donned her usual slate grey armour and hefted the metallic blue automatic sniper rifle, on her hip hung a snub-barreled submachine gun. Garrus stood next to her in the blue armour he had worn since his days in C-Sec. It now bore a deep fissure where it had caught several hypervelocity rounds. His new sniper rifle glistened from where it hung on his back. Miranda stood swathed in her usual high-density bodysuit, still emblazoned with the double hexagon of Cerberus. She carried her own submachine gun and her fingers crackled with dark energy. Zaeed carried a heavy two barreled rifle I didn't recognize clipped to the front plates of his battered and patched yellow armour. I stood between him and Feron, who wore a suit of black armour that covered him completely in glossy black panels. He carried a standard Avenger pattern rifle. Behind us stood four silent mechs. They were grey, with yellow patterning, standing about six feet tall. Their shoulders and chest plates were much bulkier than the clamshell-headed LOKI mechs. Their skeletal hands clasped modified Mattocks like my own, except altered for fully automatic fire. The door to the shuttle slid open.

"Alright, everyone load up. Atmosphere's looking rough down there, so prepare for some chop on the way down. We'll have a two minute unpowered drop before swooping in nice and low. As soon as your boots hit dirt I want you in position to hold a perimeter. Ready up." She made a twirling motion with her finger and tapped us all lightly on the shoulder as we clomped past and into the shuttle's belly. The mechs affixed themselves to alcoves in the outer skin and soon were covered by sliding armour plates. Shepard jumped in last, forgoing the bench in favor of one of the suspended fabric loops in the ceiling. The Cerberus pilot donned his bubble helmet and gently brought the shuttle to a hover. Suddenly we plunged through the airtight barriers and out into space. The pilot pulled us into a low orbit and cut engines to mimic a bit of space trash. My stomach fluttered as we began to plummet, but I held a brave face. Soon red hot winds buffeted the small ship as we began reentry. We hit the atmosphere with a cascading sonic boom that followed us to the deck. The pilot jammed the thrusters back on and dialed the inertial dampeners to their max setting. There was a sudden feeling of weightlessness and then we were racing forward, just skimming the wrecks that filled the planetary shipbreaking yard.

"That's the one we want." Shepard pointed out the wreck of what once had been a proud dreadnaught of the Krogan warlords. Now it was a skeleton, jutting like a mountain from the steel jungle below.

"I'll put you down in this opening, right here." The pilot responded. We began a slow descent. I readied my Mattock and released the crash harness. About the small cabin, four others did likewise. The shuttle landed with a crunch.

"Go, go, go!" Shepard waved us out. I dropped the half foot to the ground and sprinted to my preset position, facing outward and scanning for threats. The small clearing in the rubble was free of Blue Suns.

"4 O'clock clear." I muttered.

"8 O'clock clear."

"12 O'clock. Clear.

"6 O'clock, bloody clear."

"10 O'clock, contact." Shepard's voice was projected from the point directly across from my own. When no shots were fired and the last point called in clear, we all made to meet up with the Commander. She knelt in the gravel on one knee, long rifle held steady. Her eye was pressed to the scope. "Looks like a scouting party. Two, maybe three hostiles. Blue Sun." Shepard reported.

"You think they know we're here?" Garrus asked aloud.

"Unlikely, they are most likely on long range patrol. Their disposition is not that of the hunter." Feron said as he gazed into the distance unaided. His translucent inner eyelids blinked.

"Whatever they're doing out here, we'll have to do 'em quick. It's a long slog to the base and the Suns don't like intruders." Zaeed said.

"Noted, Feron and Zaeed; set up a flanking position up in that pile of junk. Garrus; you and I are on overwatch. Liddle, how much practice have you had with that rifle?"

"More than nothing, but less than I'd like," I shot back. I could now see the approaching Blue Suns in my helmets augmented view.

"Stay with the drones then. Miranda, I want you to drop that arch on them on my mark."

"Got it, Commander."

The group scattered, each member taking up his or her position. I hung back with the mechs, lining up the leading mercenary in my sights. As they walked below an arch formed of twisted girders and other scrap, Shepard spoke one word. "Mark."

With a groan, the metal dropped to the ground as if smashed by an invisible fist. Shards of steel fell about the patrolmen's heads. The loud *THOOM* and the triple burst of the snipers barked the beginning of the attack. Instantly, two men went down as tiny leaf shaped flakes of metal lanced through their shields, penetrating the weak protection of their faceplates. They didn't even twitch, simply falling to the ground where they stood. I shifted my aim, the last member of the team was firing wildly at were Garrus and Shepard had set up their watch. Suddenly a volume of fire was unleashed from behind him as our flankers made themselves known. I saw the signature flash of failing shields and added my own weapon to the blaze. The man fell screaming to the ground.

"Hold fire!" Shepard was running forward now. The mechs took a half second to respond, luckily firing well over the fallen guard's head, leaving him to squirm on the ground. We approached him from all sides. He was a mess, bleeding from at least a half dozen small holes in his armour. He clutched ineffectually at his sidearm. Zaeed kicked the weapon away.

"Oh god, oh, god, please don't kill me!" The man coughed. He looked faint. Somewhere off to the side, his fallen helmet radio crackled to life.

"Perimeter Sweep 23, we heard weapons fire, report immediately." The voice was a woman's, severe and sharp. The man reached for it only to have it scooped away by a quick handed Feron.

"Please…" the man said weakly.

"Tell you what," Shepard started, "You tell whoever's in charge here that you saw some local wildlife. Thought you'd scare it off. You tell them that, and I'll have my deputy here give you something for the pain, you're looking pretty rough."

"Anything." The man puffed, reaching for the helmet.

"Just remember, you warn them, give them any kind of coded message, we'll leave you here. Deputy, give him a shot of medigel." I obeyed. The man's face relaxed noticeably. He took the helmet.

"Base, this is PS 23. We… ah… we ran into some of the wildlife, thought we'd scare it off." He looked to Shepard for approval. She nodded gravely.

"Local wildlife? There's nothing living on this damned planet except for us. What's going on?" the voice asked.

"One of the varren musta gotten out," the man spluttered quickly. The voice on the other end seemed to mull this over.

"I'll have to talk to that damned krogan. I don't care how many of those 'Sons' he pumps out, he can't just go letting his pets loose every time he gets bored. Next time report it before you start shooting, you idiot."

"Yes, ma'am." The connection closed with a snap. The Blue Sun turned to us. "Can… can I go?" he muttered.

"I think you'd better," Shepard said, "Just think of how unhappy your boss is going to be when she finds out you lied to her." The man's face seemed to completely drain of colour. Shepard swiped the helmet back out of his hands and smashed the radio underfoot. "I'd find a way offplanet if I were you." The man lurched unsteadily to his feet. Swaying a few times, he finally got his bearings. He limped off slowly, away from the repurposed dreadnaught, cursing under his breath the whole way.

"I would have killed 'im," Zaeed stated flatly. "Too much of a chance he'll have a change of heart and warn his _friends_." He said the word, friends, in a bitingly sarcastic tone.

"I try not to get into a habit of unnecessary killing," Shepard replied, "besides; he's without a radio, and traveling much slower than any of us. Chances are good we'll have completed out mission before he makes it back to base."

* * *

We rushed through the junkyard towards the jutting monument. Very rarely did we run into another patrol. It was a long time before we met our first krogan. The beast stood staring blankly at a wall, clad in head to foot in plain yellow and red armour. He held a shotgun at his side, albeit loosely. He did not react as we moved up behind him. It wasn't until one of us spoke, Feron commenting on the scarring that covered his armour, that the krogan lumbered around to face us. It spoke, dully, and slowly, it's deep krogan rumble lacking any of the fire of Wrex or Grunt.

"Drills…. Are cancelled…. For today." It announced before turning back away from us. Shepard looked perplexed.

"What do you mean?" she asked. The krogan turned back towards us.

"Drills… are canceled." It repeated. "No…. fight… today. Rest."

"Drills? Are they training you?" the Commander continued her questioning.

"No…. train the blue ones…. Train… the red ones. No train it." it spoke haltingly. "It not worthy... of training."

"Commander, I think the Blue Suns are using these krogan for target practice." Miranda said. She nodded away from the group. More krogan stood around the corner, each as silent and still as the one we were talking to had been.

"But where did the Blue Suns get all these krogan?"

"We were… grown. The tank… spoke to us… told us…" the krogan spoke again. "We were grown… for the Father. But we failed. We are not like the others."

Somewhere in the distance, a siren began to wail.

"This is Commander Jedore! We have infiltrators in the compound! All units converge on the target range immediately!" the same voice from the radio echoed from several nearby loudspeakers.

"Crap, everybody get ready to move! Double time to that dreadnaught. Eyes open! Let's go!" Shepard shot out orders. Already Zaeed was moving ahead of the group. I was about to turn myself when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

"I… will be… Worthy." The tank bred krogan lifted its shotgun.

* * *

Author's Note/Correspondence?:

Tempest86: Thanks for reading, I'm glad you like it. I left "yellowjacket" uncapitalized since that was how it was written in the first message back in the first fic. I guess outside of the messages themselves it should be capitalized.

NonSolus: I always figured Udina was unnecessarily hostile to Shepard, even after she proved she was right. Maybe being delayed joining the council will make him more willing to work outside the system...

-Liddle Out


	7. Chapter 7: The Warmaster

Interloper 2: Chapter 7

I did the only thing that came to my mind. I swung the butt of my rifle up and around, contacting with the half-raised shotgun. The gun was knocked aside, slipping from the krogan's grasp. The clone reacted faster than I expected, slamming a fist into my shoulder. The blow was enough to knock me off my feet. I heard the thrum of battle erupt over my head. The krogan clone had already rounded on me, the twin red circles of its helmet staring at me. I tried to roll away from the monster, only to have it follow closely. The krogan rained down blows with its stubby legs, some I managed to wriggle away from, some couldn't be avoided. One such blow smashed right through half formed shields and drove the air from my chest. Something under the armour made an awful snapping sound and a sharp pain tore up my right side. I bit back a curse and reached for my pistol. The krogan stomped down on my hand, trapping the pistol within my gauntleted fist. Struggling only produced a painful grinding in my chest. The krogan raised its other foot, readying to come down with all of its weight. Something pulled it back. Caught off guard and off balance, the krogan slipped backwards as an arm wrapped around its throat. Steel flashed as a knife sprouted from the soft rubber of the neck seal. Dark blood seeped from between the plates. I raised my pistol, now free from the back sliding krogan. The knife flashed again, this time in the armpit. I fired once, twice, three times. The rounds tore into the krogan's chest, leaf shaped fragments tumbling about the armour. The krogan was dumped unceremoniously to the side, revealing Zaeed. The burly mercenary kicked the dying clone before offering a hand up. I took it, once again feeling a grinding in my chest. I clutched at it.

"Broken ribs. Hurts, don't it. You'll live." The man slapped the medigel injectors on my suit, releasing a cool mass into my right side. The gel soothed, but made my chest feel tight and stiff. I retrieved my Mattock as Zaeed returned to the battle, unleashing a stream of bullets and invectives on a nearby Blue Sun.

"Liddle, get yourself into cover!" Shepard was just ahead of me, crouched behind a junked aircar. I rushed to join her. She launched a spray of rounds from her submachine gun to provide cover while I clumsily dove behind the engine block. Dust had settled in the Commander's copper coloured hair, flecking it with grey. "You still in this fight?" she asked with raised eyebrow.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, Commander." I snapped a round off at the nearest Sun. He danced away from the blow, slipping back behind a rusty outcropping.

"Good, I'm going to need you to make your way over to where Garrus is holed up, the two of you are going to pin down their heavies until the mechs get into a position to nail 'em." Somewhere in front of us, a Blue Sun was caught up in a bubble of negative gravity, sending him flying off into the sky.

"I think I can do that." I said. I peeked over the seat of the junked car.

"Don't think, run. Now go!" Shepard rose once again to cover me. I dashed out towards the fleck of blue that betrayed Garrus' sniper position. As I approached, a loud retort signaled the death of another opponent. I slid in beside the prone turian to the tortured protest of my ribcage. From the vantage point of the hide, I was able to get a better view of the battlefield. The team had concentrated in the center of one of the clearer avenues through the piles of garbage, taking cover behind the larger pieces of junk and standing blocks of concrete from the remains of buildings that must have predated the global landfill. The avenue ahead was rapidly filling with blue-armoured humans and turians, who scampered over rubble as the voice on the loudspeakers extorted them to "take no prisoners," and "kill the invaders." Several of the red and yellow krogan also dotted the warzones, some taking potshots at Shepard's crew, some firing on the Suns, though whether it was merely their preprogrammed response or Okeer's doing was unclear.

"Pass me a clip, would you?" Garrus asked from his position. I handed over the small metal comb and laid in my own sights.

"Shepard wants us to focus on the heavies." I said between short bursts. The missile armed troops prowling on top of some of the more stable piles of rubbish dove for cover as the shots struck sparks off of metal pillars and shields alike. I fiddled with the dials on the back of my rifle, lengthening the ammo extruder's draw depth and kicking in the gun's phasic envelope generators. My shots took on a blue tinge as they lanced through shields, downing one of the distracted heavies.

"What? The both of us? That sounds like one more than is really necessary," he joked as he triggered another quick round.

"Yeah, well that's what I told her. She said you needed someone here to make sure you didn't find a way to jump in front of a rocket again," I shot back.

"I suppose I earned that," Garrus chuckled. "How's that new gun of yours holding up?"

"No problems so far, yours?"

"Oh, it's dead on." Garrus sounded slightly frustrated.

"And that's a problem?"

"It wouldn't be, if it hadn't stopped a bullet on Omega. It's pulled to the left ever since. And because I didn't have time to fix it on the run, I just kind of trained myself to shoot that way."

Despite working against his recent training, Garrus and I were able to pin down the launcher toting mercs until the mechs made their presence known. They marched in lockstep, each leveling their weapon and unleashing a hail of fire. Their attacks were not the most accurate, but the volume made up for the poor marksmanship. The Suns began to pull back in good order, leapfrogging from cover to cover.

"We're moving up, everyone stick to cover," the Commander ordered. We followed, taking up position in areas just vacated by the defending mercs. "Follow them, up that ramp!" the ramp in question rose out of the dusty midden to a metal and concrete platform that leaned on the outer hull of the skeletal dreadnaught that made up the base of Blue Suns operations. The top of the ramp led into a wide open space, and a trap. Shots fired from all around us, shorting out the shields on the lead mech. It hissed and sputtered as rounds carved molten scars through its torso. The rest of us scattered, dropping below the lip of the ramp.

"Now what?" Miranda asked furiously. She hurled a piece of scrap over the lip with biotics, making a lot of noise but otherwise doing little damage to the defenders.

"Just watch." Zaeed said. He hefted the twin barreled gun resolutely and flipped a switch on its butt. He then jumped up and walked out into the open space.

"Damn it, Zaeed!" Shepard chastised him. "Wilson, send the mechs up after him. The rest of you take up firing positions and get ready to drag him back down here." The team sprang to action, only to find the field of fire strangely empty. Zaeed advanced on the remaining Suns, his rifle spitting out thick black spheres that burst among the clumps of fighters in clouds of bright orange fire. The three mechs that had followed him lay broken on the floor, leaving the mercenary the only survivor.

* * *

"Okay, we go in on three." Commander Shepard stood just to the side of the bulkhead doors that would lead us up into the belly of the wounded warship. "One… two…" the doors clanged open. A Blue Sun fell out, his armour ruined by a shot that had shredded his back. We peered into the wide, sloping corridor. At the base, one of the yellow-clad krogan was plodding up towards us. He leveled his shotgun. "Get back!" the bright red streaks that marked the passage of metal fragments carved furrows in the door jamb. "Liddle, you got any grenades?"

"When don't I?" I fired my Omni-tool, readying the old standby. I lopped the Incinerate around the corner. It sailed on the back of a mass effect field, bypassing the krogan's shields and splashing over its chest. It did not scream, yell, or curse, it only kept coming. The flames must have thrown off its aim though, as it launched a volley at the ceiling above us. A burst from Shepard's rifle put it down for good.

"Zaeed, take point," Shepard ordered. "It looks like things just got complicated."

* * *

We rushed through the hallways and warehouses that made up the Blue Sun's base. We found evidence of further skirmishes between the Blue-armoured mercenaries and their yellow armoured clones targets, but as we rose through the levels, we encountered a seemingly third party, another group of krogan, wrapped in a blood-red and steel grey suit of thick plates capped in a helmet that extended into a mask that resembled the full-helm of an old Earth knight.

"Shepard…"

"Yeah Garrus, I see it too. It looks like there's another force at play here." The Commander rolled the krogan over with a boot. "So if the yellow ones are Okeer's clones, who the heck are these? More clones?"

"The Blood Pact is known for wearing red." Miranda noted. "Although I've never seen this armour configuration."

"Didn't the clone we talked to mention the 'red ones'? I asked. "Could the Blood Pact have joined up with the Blue Suns for some kind of training mission?"

"Wouldn't happen in a thousand years," Zaeed scoffed.

"You'd be surprised," Garrus said, "Give them enough of a push…" the loudspeaker boomed, cutting the turian off.

"This is Commander Jedore; this treason has gone long enough. Okeer, I order you to stand down immediately, or I will see your precious sons choke on their own insides!" the message went unanswered. "So be it, you… Enjoy oblivion you washed up, pathetic…" the voice was choked off by a series of hacking coughs. The loudspeaker channel fell silent, but remained on, leaking a thread of eery static into the complex.

"That was… strange." Feron noted, "If we are to get to the bottom of this, we should move swiftly. I doubt the life expectancy of this Jedore spans more than minutes."

"Feron's right, let's double time it, people."

We left the sprawl of the lower levels for the rickety skeleton of the upper structure. The base seemed to consist of prefab sections and surviving bulkheads, all welded and strung up to the precarious ribs of the dead warship. A dusty wind whipped through the segments. We had to be careful traversing the slanted hull plates and open platforms. There were more signs of battle here and there, always skewed heavily against the Suns, although occasionally we would find another of the red krogan.

"Hold here," Feron dropped to a knee suddenly. "I believe I have found the origin of the loudspeaker signal." He pointed to a platform just above us. It led into a much larger cluster of prefabs.

"Okay, I want a carful approach and everyone to go to internal air; I don't one anyone hacking up a lung."

We moved up in formation, slowly and carefully. Atop the staircase, one of the red-clad krogan stood, the long boxy form of an M-300 Claymore clasped in his hands. He rounded on us as we gained the top.

"Halt!" he held out a hand while keeping the shotgun leveled on Shepard. "You are here for Okeer. He has been waiting." The krogan spoke not with the hesitant speech of the clones, but with a confident rumble born of sentience. Shepard held an arm out to signal for us to keep back.

"You're with Okeer?" she asked dubiously.

"With and of him. Follow me and I will take you to him." The krogan spun and went towards the door that led into the deeper complex. We all followed carefully. On the team channel, Shepard whispered orders.

"Massani, Garrus, Feron, hold up here and be prepared for a rear guard action. I want you on the lookout for an ambush." The three men nodded and turned to watch the ramp down. The remaining three of us entered a wide interior space full of lab equipment and empty tanks. More of the red armoured krogan moved about the benches of beakers and computers. They disregarded us as we passed. We travelled deeper into the complex through a set of inner doors. Standing with his back to us was a massive, unarmoured krogan. He turned to reveal an incredibly scarred face, topped by a cracked black crown of bony plates. The sunken eyes remained sharp despite the cratering of age that surrounded them.

"You are Shepard," he stated. If Wrex's voice had sounded like the tumble of gravel, this voice was alike to slabs of granite being dragged across each other. Each syllable became a rasp as it crossed his cracked lips.

"That's right, you are Dr. Okeer?" Shepard replied.

"Yes, I am Warmaster Okeer. Your Cerberus organization has contacted me. They seem very interest in my work." He regarded the titanic alien before him. "Your arrival is most timely; I was beginning to fear I would have to begin my final stage without your distraction."

"And this final stage is…"

"A conversation for another time. Suffice it to say, you have what knowledge I have on these, 'Collectors,' as long as Cerberus keeps its side of the bargain."

"Cerberus will hold it." Miranda said quickly.

"Good," the krogan said, "let me first prepare my Red Sons for my departure." He turned to address a krogan who stood silently in the back of the room. "Okeer Furst, step forward." The krogan went to a knee before the Warmaster.

"Father." It spoke almost reverently. The tone sounded strange coming from a krogan. He removed his great helmet, revealing the grey, knobbly plates of a much younger krogan, a krogan with a distinctively shark like face and cunning, a face I recognized from hours of gameplay. Grunt.

"Furst, you will continue my work as planned. You are Battlemaster now, the finest of my new soldiers, and I name you Primarch of the Red Sons of Okeer."

"Yes, Father." The krogan rose.

"Now, Shepard, you may take me to your ship."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Sorry this one's a little later than usual, it took a little longer to hash out Okeer's character than i figured. We'll be seeing a lot more of him than we did in the game and I wanted to really flesh him out a bit more. Next time we'll get to see his debriefing and our next destination, stay tuned.

NonSolus: Thanks for saying so, I do try to keep my self inserts from slipping into Sue territory. It does bug me sometimes when other stories have everyone hanging on the every word of the the relative newcomer, no matter how important they are. Of course I'm not immune to it myself, so it's good to know I have you guys keeping me honest.


	8. Chapter 8: Holding Pattern

Interloper 2: Chapter 8

"I'm not sure I understand," Shepard said as we entered the second round of questioning. The debriefing of Warmaster Okeer had gone on for about half an hour by the time I was able to sneak out of the infirmary with my arm in a sling and a promise to the surly Cerberus orderly that I would practice taking deep breaths. Thanking my good luck that Dr. Chakwas had been off shift, I had made my way up to the meeting room on the flight deck. Okeer sat perched on the too-small chair across the table from Shepard, who alongside Miranda had been throwing questions at him since the minute they had arrived.

"It is quite simple," Okeer grated in his rough granite voice, "the greatest insult an enemy can suffer is to be ignored. That is what my Sons will do to the Genophage."

"The Genophage is not some enemy to be defeated in battle," Miranda said as I took a seat. "It's a disease, ignoring it will only make it worse."

"Perhaps it is a disease to you; mere humans could never understand what it means to be krogan. No, my way is right. For two long the Genophage has weakened my species. We allow the weak to live; every squalling infant has become precious. Bah! I would have ten true krogan at my back in the place of hundreds of these… mistakes." He scoffed, a sound that resembled a stone being thrown into a well. "But that is not why you need me. You need me to tell you about my old business partners."

"_Old_ business partners?"

"Yes, once I had what I needed and they had taken their specimens, they did not contact me again. They can keep their company; they made even my skin crawl."

"You actually met them?" Miranda asked.

"Not at first, they contacted me through some protocol mech they had hacked. It wasn't until I had agreed to give them their subjects that they came in person. About a half dozen met me in my lab with a crate of equipment. They took their spoils with them in these cocoon-like pods, never speaking."

"You learn anything about them? Bases this side of the relay? Numbers and dispositions?" Shepard asked.

"I did say they never spoke, correct? No, I learned little. Most likely by design. What I did get away with them, was a small pod. From what I know of their organic technology, it looks like one of their data pods. You'd need one of their bio-readers to decipher the information on it."

"Which I assume you don't have?"

"You would assume correctly. I will have the pod delivered to the science lab you have aboard." He said.

The questioning went on for a further half hour until Shepard broke the meeting to give a report to the Illusive man. The occupants of the room went their own ways, but the Commander tapped me on the shoulder before I could leave.

"Are you doing alright, deputy? You took a beating down there." She looked concerned. The bright orange that burned beneath her scarring seemed to have dulled at least a little since I had first seen her on Cook's Landing.

"Just a few broken ribs, Commander. I'll be ready for the next mission."

"Good to hear, although it's not sounding like we'll be going down on any missions any time soon. We can't access the info on this 'bio-pod' without securing a reader from the Collectors, and we can't go toe to toe with the Collectors until Dr. Solus can find a way to neutralize these seeker swarms."

"So what's our next move?" I asked.

"I've got a few ideas. I've got a contact who says he's got the next thing in shotgun technology, but his work doesn't come cheap. We'll be skipping through some of the unsettled systems gathering platinum for a while, but I think the upgrade will be well worth it. I was thinking of putting that friend of yours on implementing it, she seems pretty handy."

"We're going to be mining?"

"Not as such, Cerberus has a shell company to deal with the messy details. We'll just drop a few probes in likely drill sights and they'll have a prospecting ship in before we leave the system." She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. "It's not exactly the exciting 'save the galaxy tour' we're used to, is it."

"Can't say it is." I said ruefully.

"Still, we'll fight the good fight. And Liddle, whatever it is you're trying to gain access to over the extranet, cut it out. You're driving the Normandy's security VI nuts."

* * *

I wandered back from the debriefing and back towards the crew quarters. My chest was starting to ache, and despite my outward bravado my two year stretch on Cook's Landing had left me almost as out of shape as when I arrived on Eden Prime. All I wanted now was to flop down on my bunk and sleep for a day or two. Unfortunately, there was no such luck. Crewman Jones, the deck officer who hot-bunked with me was dozing off as I walked in, and the shift wouldn't change for at least an hour. So I found myself with a wealth of time and no inclination to use it. Having discarded the possibility of just passing out on the floor, I fired up my Omni-tool. The friendly orange display lit up with its normal desktop informing me that I had no new messages. I didn't try to access my Yellowjacket program, taking the Commander's hint. Her words hadn't struck me with their full weight back in the conference room, but now I was curious_. Did she say 'security VI?' _I ran the program that could be used to interface with the ship's computer core, a useful diagnostic tool in the hands of the engineers, and hopefully the key to answering my own questions.

"Run query, all databases. Search 'EDI.'" The terminal window worked for a second until spitting out its response. _No reference to "EDI" found. Did you mean 'miri'?_

_But if there was no reference to EDI in the system at all…_ I tried searching _miri_, which while revealing several poorly written love notes to the ship's XO brought me no closer to finding the familiar AI. I next tried searching for the Normandy's security system. The computer spat out a bunch of specs for a standard Alliance military counterintelligence VI. _So EDI was never installed, but where does that leave us?_ Truthfully the realm of computer security was not one of my strong points, but so far the VI had done well enough to block Yellowjacket in a way that the old Normandy had never done. Perhaps it would be fine. By now Jones had rolled out of bed and gone to his duty station. I rolled into the now empty bunk after a quick undressing, soon falling asleep.

* * *

The 'morning' shift found me staring down a serving of Mess Sergeant Gardner's much improved, but still far from delicious eggs benedict.

"You waiting for it to make the first move?" the portly cook asked.

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised," I retorted, only half joking. The cook made a dismissive gesture and chuckled.

"Not you too…" He went back to his small kitchen. I took a bite of the rapidly cooling meal. Someone sat down beside me, dropping their own tray with a clatter.

"Hey Lizzers."

"I told you not to call me that," her reply sounded like it came on the tail end of a yawn. I looked over to find her usually curly hair a tangle.

"You look tired."

"I know, I was up all night talking to that Mordin guy. I swear, once you get him going…" she laughed. "He's fascinating, I think if anyone can find a way to knock out those bug things, it's him."

"He told you about the seekers?"

"Only their entire life stories. I think he gets lonely cooped up in that science labs, the only person who visits him is Shepard, and she only goes in for updates on the countermeasures."

"I think he's gotten used to working alone. Shepard said he was former STG." I speared the last bite of floppy egg with a fork.

"It's kind of sad, at least I think so anyway." The girl shifted her own plate in front of her and stared at the saucy biscuit in concentration.

"Liz, what are you…" she waved me off. Slowly, the food wobbled on the plate and rose about a half inch before flopping down on the plate.

"Rats, thought I had it that time." She cut into it and began to eat.

* * *

The rest of the day past quickly. There wasn't much to do other than watch the ongoing prospecting operations, so I sought out Garrus. I found him in the cargo hold alongside Feron. The two of them had set up an impromptu target range among the crates and other equipment, firing low powered dummy rounds at holographic targets.

"Getting your eye in?" I asked as I slipped into the firing line beside them. "Mind if I join you?"

"Be our guest," the drell buzzed. He had the same assault rifle he had wielded down on Korlus with him.

"We were just swapping war stories," Garrus informed me, "Feron here was involved with recovering Shepard's body from the Shadow Broker."

"Oh really?" I asked, interested. I had been curious about the drell infiltrator since meeting him my first day aboard. He seemed friendly enough, but I was still on the fence over whether he served Cerberus, or was still one of the Broker's creatures. There was even the chance he was working for Liara, but I couldn't just straight out ask him about it without rousing suspicion. "How'd you manage that?"

"It was a simple matter. A friend of mine knew that I was at work in the Shadow Broker's organization. This friend also had contacts in Cerberus. It was my friend who made the first contact between the two groups, I was merely the conduit."

"He's just being humble," Garrus chuckled. "He told it much better when I asked the first time."

"Triggering my eidetic response might make for better story-telling, but it leaves me quite dizzy," the drell responded, "besides, I am sure the deputy knows more of the tale than he lets on." The sentence made me stop dead; what did he know?

"How do you mean?" Garrus asked curiously.

"I mean, he seems to have a close relationship with the Commander. I'm sure she's shared much of it with him already."

"Hadn't come up," I said tensely.

"Oh, my mistake. I will have to tell it again, but now we shoot."

However dizzy Feron claimed to be, he was certainly a more than fair marksman. Garrus, of course, bested the both of us, but the drell seemed to be around my level. And if his flashes of eidetic memory were truly as debilitating as he led on, he would beat me on one of his better days.

"We'll have to do that again," he said as we left the bay for a light lunch. He gave the equivalent of an easy smile and turned away as we reached the crew deck, making for the dry haven of the life support section that would have housed the assassin Thane Krios had this been the mission I knew from before. Garrus and I took a seat at the table, me with a snatched sandwich and he with some kind of purplish noodles. Our conversation was light but pleasant. Outside the pressure hull, the steady thump of dispatched probes was lost in the vacuum of space.

* * *

Author's Note:

Please excuse this update's lateness, I've been entertaining family this week and it's left much less time to work on the story than I'd hoped for. Next update should be on schedule for next Monday.

-Liddle Out


	9. Chapter 9: Dancing with Shadows, Part 1

Interloper 2: Chapter 9

I slowly crept across the ruins of an ancient civilization, careful not to expose an inch to the watchful eyes of my opponent. I had had a few close calls since the opening of our little snipers' duel, once he had even tagged my shields, but a quick drop and roll had carried me out of the field of fire. Now I was back on the hunt, eyes watchful for the slightest glint of his armour. I stopped at the edge that marked the outline of the once proud building, caught between the desire to cross the road and gain the heights of the surviving tower across the way and the fear of the mad dash across the open avenue. I cut a compromise, sweeping the nearby edifices with my scope, all the while checking on the status of my heat sink. The old-style rifles still relied on an internal device to store and release its thermal energy. Mine was currently running just a hair over stone cold. The blank faces of the adjoining buildings were empty, at least to my eyes. I spent a long minute staring out at them before making up my mind. I ran, hunched over to provide as little a target as possible. My heart pounded in my chest as I made the other side, slipping between to boards to gain access to the standing tower's only staircase. I took a second to catch my breath before sweeping the dark entryway. Something caught my eye at the foot of the stairs, the scuffing of the dust, clawprints on the stone of my opponent. My smile turned feral as I quietly padded over. There was no doubt that he had come this way, and if he hadn't caught me crossing the street, he had no idea I had found his hiding place. I crept silently up the worn steps, rifle trained ever upwards. Soon I found more evidence, a discarded canteen, a mark left by the scrape of a barrel on the wall.

At long last, I peeked up past the lip of the staircase, into the wide open space that marked the top of the tower. A great mass of fallen gears covered the floor, making passage across it treacherous. My opponent had chosen his roost cleverly. I saw him now, leaned over his rifle with his eyes glued to the street below. He didn't hear me rise to a firing position, for he didn't stir, not even twitching while I scoped in on his head. I pulled the trigger, shoulder jerking back as it absorbed the recoil. My opponent's helmet popped off, falling to the ground many feet below. "Gotcha." I crept forward to claim my prize. I put my hand on the opponent's shoulder, turning it over. It was a hollow suit of armour, a note taped to its chest. _Over Here_, it said. I looked, staring across the open avenue. In the window of the leveled ruin, the glint of a scope shone in the darkness.

"Gotcha," said Garrus as he squeezed the trigger. I heard the shot, and the world faded in a blur of white lines and static. The dim glow of the Normandy crew lounge returned as I yanked the VR goggles from my head.

"That's it Vakarian, we're taking this to the Strategy genre!" I said in mock outrage. "No way I'm letting you win this without a fight."

"I don't know, Liddle, you'll remember I spent the better part of a year running a guerilla campaign against the combined gangs of Omega. I'm not sure playing strategy will give you any kind of advantage in this little contest of ours."

"Didn't that campaign end up with you in a Blue Suns lockup with your bail paid by your father?" I said in reply.

"Touché. It was a close game though; I thought I had you back there for a second. Guess I'm just lucky you're a sucker for a trap. Inspired choice of setting though, I didn't know they still put out maps of World War III London, especially when the war failed to happen."

"Let me tell you, I had to do some digging…" my sentence was cut off part-way through by the ship's intercom.

"Now hear this. All hands, prepare to resist boarders. Damage control teams to your posts. This is not a drill." The Commander's voice rang throughout the crew lounge. Garrus and I looked at each other for scant seconds before rushing to our feet.

* * *

The trip to the flight deck was hectic. While the few security officers assigned to the ship were securing key choke points with almost clinical precision, all of the other crew showed a mix of confusion and panic.

"And I thought serving on an Alliance vessel was barely controlled chaos," Garrus quipped as we emerged on the upper deck. Here worried looking crewmen with shaking rifles nervously stood watch, but at least it lacked the general milling about. My hand rested on my own pistol as we approached the cockpit, where Shepard stood over Joker's shoulder. She peered, eyes hawk-like as she scanned the displays.

"Ah, Liddle," she said without turning around, "I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."

"What's the situation? Are we under attack?" I gave the displays a quick look myself, almost worried I'd find the monitors eclipsed by an insidious and massive cigar-shaped form. The close-in sensors were clear though.

"Stealth systems engaged as ordered, we're running dark Commander," Miranda said. Her usually smooth Australian accent was tinged with annoyance, as if the possibility of attack was an inconvenience.

"Good," Shepard replied. She turned to me. "Someone's out there. We don't know who, but they definitely shouldn't be here."

"We kind of have that in common, don't we, Commander," Joker chimed in, "results of passive scans coming in now. From the visuals, looks like tonnage is somewhere between a frigate and a bulk freighter, one of the big ones, but the thermals match that of a much smaller hauler."

"Any IFF signal?" Shepard questioned.

"Getting nothing, Commander. Whoever it is, they're hiding something."

"Give me options, people; we can't hide our emissions forever." Shepard crossed her arms but kept her eyes glued to our pursuers.

"It's unlikely to be pirates; they would be flying their colours, so to speak. And this system was confirmed empty before we began our operations, so they're not locals." Miranda said. "And very few outside of our organization would know we are here, since they're not transmitting Cerberus command codes, there's only one group that could find us out here."

"The Shadow Broker," Garrus deduced. "How'd he find us?"

"Tracking the sales of our shell corporations I presume," Miranda answered, "we'll have to abandon them, of course, but that won't help deal with this ship."

"Commander, we're getting a transmission from the ship, wide-band. Patching it through now." The transmission was scratchy as it began to pipe through the bridge speakers, but it cleared as Joker fiddled with the controls.

"… to the crew of the Cerberus ship Normandy, this is the captain of the _Shadow Barge_. As I'm sure you are all well aware, your ship has among its compliment a part of my master's property." The voice was strange and mechanical, as if drawn through a filter. "You will surrender your vessel, and this property, and I assure you that you won't be harmed. In fact, you may depart with this vessel intact and your cargo unmolested. However, if you resist, you will be boarded, you will be thoroughly debriefed by our intelligence experts, and your ship will be seized. End transmission." The channel closed with a snap.

"Did the crew hear that?" Shepard asked.

"A wide-band broadcast would have been picked up by all of the Omni-tools aboard had the ship not been expressly shielded against such attacks, so no, the only ones who heard it were us and the Normandy itself. But believe me, Commander; none among the remaining crew would turn you over." Miranda assured her.

"Good, now, for our next move." Shepard motioned for us to follow her. She led us out to the slowly spinning galaxy map and began to fiddle with the controls. The disk was replaced with a three dimensional representation of the local star system, our own position and that of the Shadow Barge. The mysterious craft had neatly positioned itself between the majority of the system and the mass relay out. Any move towards the exit without the cover of the stealth systems would be matched by the Broker's ship. Shepard seemed to be having much the same thought.

"They've got us cordoned off. As much faith as I'm willing to put in Joker's piloting skills, I don't like our chances of beating their inside track in a straight race to the relay. That leaves a stand up fight and trying to sneak past it."

"A ship that size might fall to a Javelin strike from stealth, but there's no knowing what those reduced thermals are hiding," Miranda noted, "If we push the Tantalus, we might just be able to make the relay with the heat sinks at current capacity."

"I have to agree with Cerberus," Garrus chimed in, "as much as I hate shirking a fight, in these situations it pays to do a little recon before you strike. I suggest we pull a close pass under stealth. It'll cut time off of our ETA and it gives us a closer look at this thing."

"Alright," Shepard drew a thin line across the projection, leaving a trail that joined us with the relay. "Joker, how close of a course can you set to this?"

"I can do you a quick close approach," the pilot said. The thin line was replaced with a much thicker line that just grazed the dot that represented the Barge. "That'll put us just within visual range for approximately thirty seconds. That close enough for you?"

"That'll do fine Joker, lay in the course. And hold on," she said as she looked back at the display. Static ran up my arms as the Tantalus drive fired up, the Normandy slowly falling towards its destination.

* * *

"How long now?" a crewman asked his workmate as the Normandy continued on its silent voyage. The other crewman whispered back.

"Just over twenty minutes now. With the non-essentials cut the heat sink's holding at thirty-eight percent."

"Hush it, you two," another of the crewmen whispered haughtily, "We're approaching visual range." The small group of impromptu guardsmen shifted to look out of one of the flight deck's small window ports. I craned my own neck to see past them. From here, the Shadow Barge was just a blocky speck among the dark of space, but I knew that the Normandy's array of high powered lenses were right then exploring every inch of the ship's hull, looking for clues as to its capabilities. I turned and walked back to the projection that was coming in over the galaxy map well, taking a cup of the cooling coffee that the Mess Sergeant had thoughtfully brought up for the bridge crew. Across the way, Shepard and Miranda stood hunched over the blocky ship that hung shimmering before them.

"…no, no, no, look at this configuration. That has to be concealed weapon points, probably missile launchers."

"I don't know; could be…" the two of them whispered back and forth, conspiratorially. I pressed the cup to my lips and forced down a sip. I made a face as more images of the ship came in. It was painted a dark grey, almost black in the dark of space. From the looks, it boasted a central spine almost as wide in diameter as the Normandy 1, but bolted to a much larger drive core. Around this spine were arranged a series of blocky cubes, which would have been cargo containers on the bulk freighters it resembled, but here it looked all too continuous, as if the hull had been one piece made to look segmented. And as the Cerberus XO had noted, the outer mechanical stubble that usually coated a ship of its class was arranged in almost perfect squares, even where geometry should have made it inconvenient. All in all it held a strange intimidating look, like a shark dressed in the skin of a whale. The deck collectively held its breath as we passed a relative hair's breadth from the strange hunter in the void.

A quiet murmur caught my attention. I turned to find the yeoman, Chambers, delivering a message to the Commander. Shepard nodded and motioned for me to come closer.

"There's been a disturbance reported in the cargo bay, I want you and Garrus to check it out," she said, "keep it under wraps, I don't want the crew getting jumpy."

"Aye ma'am." I saluted smartly and nodded to the turian. He fell into step behind me and grabbed a rifle from one of the nearby guards.

"You two," I said, motioning for the still armed men, "With me." The baffled crewmen looked first at the Commander, then at Miranda. When both expressed their assent, they fell in too. I unholstered my own pistol as we stepped into the elevator. We rode down in a loose formation, Garrus taking the lead. We stepped out quickly and quietly, moving up to the great glass window that gave a clear view of the entire bay. One of the larger crates stood alone in the center of the room. It was not standing still. Even through the glass, a high pitched whine reached my ears.

"No way."

* * *

Author's Note:

Dun dun dun, cliffhangers for everyone! Before you all cry foul of this evil deed, I had intended this to be a longer chapter, but the two parts seemed to have a quite different tone, plus it was already getting pretty long, so I split it up. as it is this chapter will conclude on Thursday, hope to see you there.

-Liddle Out


	10. Chapter 10: Dancing with Shadows, Part 2

Interloper 2: Chapter 10

The crate rattled and shook, the black strapping that held it down strained to resist the motion. I keyed my mic.

"Commander, we've got movement down here, sounds like…" I didn't finish my report. The whine that was issuing from the box stopped in a series of statacco chirps. The box burst open with a resounding crash.

**Mech online. Reviewing primary directives. Fifteen minute intermission, destroy Normandy stealth systems, destroy Normandy 2.**

The big YMIR mech rose to its full height, thick legs stretching out to brace its large array of weapons. This weapons hung down on a pair of sturdy arms. Its broad torso was topped by a wide clamshell head in which circular red eyes burned. Its stubby rocket arm extended, pointed towards the upper balcony.

"Get down!" I made to duck away from the incoming ordinance, but the mech was faster. The hypervelocity round smacked full into the wide window. The glass spiderwebbed for a split second before shattering into a hurricane of shards. The greasy orange flower of the explosion was quickly replaced by a miniature gale as the sudden vacuum pulled the team out of the window. I felt myself tumbling through the air as the world around me blurred and rang horribly. Somewhere off to my right, someone hit the floor with a pronounced *umpth*. From the look of the blue-white smear on my vision, it had to be Garrus. Somewhere else, a gun was firing. I dragged myself forward towards a surviving crate and checked for injuries. My breath caught in my chest as I probed my previously wounded side, but I couldn't find any new breaks. That was something. My vision cleared as I injected a slug of medigel from my gunbelt, using a good portion of my emergency stock. The world grew sharper as the adrenaline additive kicked in. My small team was scattered throughout the bay. One of the Cerberus crewmen lay still, crumpled against a smashed box of ration packets. Garrus had sought cover of his own. He was giving fire in return for the YMIRs attacks. The third member was still stunned, crouching in the back of the room with his head in his hands.

"Everyone alright?" my voice sounded wrong through the haze of burst eardrums and adrenaline spike. "Report."

"Still alive here, Liddle." Garrus' voice was scratchy, but clearly in control. He continued to plug away at the behemoth between its long, driving volleys, but it did little good against the powerful shields that wreathed it.

"Ah, the day's first good news," I said, "On three we hit this thing with an overload. Ready?"

"I'm with you." The shaken turian responded. He ducked down to prepare the attack. I powered up my own combat program and selected the most powerful directed EMP I had.

"1… 2… 3… Go!" I popped out of cover at the same time as Garrus threw himself sideways from his own concealment. The combined dancing lights of our simultaneous attack blanketed the mech, blasting away its kinetic barriers. I drew my pistol with the other hand a loosed a shot at the now exposed head. The shot went wide, sparking off the high ceiling. The near miss seemed to anger the rampaging mech, because it turned to face me and put on a burst of speed. Its thick legs clomped heavily on the deck, shaking the piles of crates. I snapped of a few more shots before it was on top of me, each one ineffective against the thick armoured chestplate. The great arm lowered before whipping back slamming into my stomach. Thin emergency barriers shattered as I was flung backwards into a pile of crates, breaking them in my landing. Air left my lungs as stars spun in front of me. More rounds skittered off the back of the mechanical beast. Garrus tried to distract it with a thrown grenade. The explosive managed to stumble it momentarily, giving me a chance to stumble upright. My hand brushed against something hard and sharp as I drew myself to my full height. I looked down to find a long metal shard of the broken crate, nearly the length of a short spear, lying on the ground at my feet. As I watched the mech advance on the third crewman's position in the back of the bay, a sudden, manic idea gripped me. I took up the spear in both hands and made to charge the lumbering metal beast, aiming for the thinner metal at the join of the head and torso. The sound of my approach must have alerted the YMIR, because its torso spun on its hips to face me. The sharp barb of the splinter punched deep into the robot's neck plate. One of the baleful circles died, apparently shorted by the attack. It didn't stop the mech though. It brought its rocket arm down on the impromptu spear. The shaft bent and was jarred from my hands, cutting as it went. I drew back quickly, ducking under a blow from the other arm.

"Mike! Up here!" a shout drew my attention upwards. Elizabeth was standing behind the shattered viewing window waving. Something needlelike was clutched tightly in one fist. She motioned for me to bring the mech in closer. I nodded, moving forward as my barriers recharged. Whatever it was she had planned, it would have to work fast, the mech had almost completely blasted away the crewman's cover. Thinking quickly, I plugged all of the power cells I could find into the Omni-tool box on my wrist. As I feverishly spliced wires, there was an almighty crunch. I peeked up to see the crate the man had been hiding behind finally give up and fall apart, littering the floor with its contents.

"Hey, you, robot!" I yelled to get its attention. It swiveled back again, but I was already too close. I jammed my fist against its chest, powering up the mass effect generators in my gauntlet to their absolute maximums and extended a bubble of negative mass around the huge combat model. With the other hand, I leveled my pistol. The blast rocked my arm back, but the impact was enough to send the mech reeling. It skidded back until almost directly below the window. Liz saw her chance. She dropped from the window onto the YMIR's back, wrapping her arm around its pierced neck. With her free hand, she plunged the needle into the exposed circuitry. The YMIR spun in place, throwing the girl off. She landed hard behind a pile of barrels near the far wall. Now the YMIR rounded on me. I raised my arm to try for another overload, but the Omni-tool was well and truly cooked.

"Robot, stand down!" Liz's voice came back, sounding pained. To my astonishment, the mech obeyed, lowering its weapons and stomping back to its crate. Liz came into view, her Omni-tool aglow and her arm wrapped protectively around her side. "Begin shutdown sequence." she said. The light went out in the mech's eyes. "Pretty cool, yeah?" she asked wanly.

"Yeah, how'd you do it?" I asked, pulling myself to my feet. I winced as my side grated again, worse this time. The last of my medigel cleared my head.

"Control spike to the main transceiver," she said excitedly, "it never would have worked if you hadn't punched that hole in its neck, but since I could interface directly with its systems, it was pretty easy.

"So you control it now?"

"Like a toy car. The interface is a little unwieldy, I'll admit. It's still a work in progress. What was it doing here anyway, and what's going on with the alert?"

"I'll tell you later, first we need to find Wilson."

"Wilson? Is he okay? Did the mech hurt him?" the girl craned her neck to look for the bald-pated engineer.

"No, but I might." I moved to the nearest VI terminal and called up the ship's computer. "Normandy, locate crewman… Wilson."

"Dr. Wilson is in the cargo bay." The computer chirped in a pleasant voice. I spun around and scanned the bay. Apart from me, Garrus, two wounded guards, Liz, and the crumpled remains of a few containers, there were no signs of life. Except maybe… my eyes narrowed on the small shuttle that lay nestled off to the side. I motioned to Garrus. The turian understood, raising his rifle to shoulder and approaching the shuttle from the other side. The door shot open. I dropped to a knee and trained my sights on the ship. Wilson came tumbling out, followed by a metal boot. The boot was followed by a leg clad in dull yellow armour, which in turn was followed by a surly looking mercenary.

"Caught this guddam' coward trying to make a clean get away. Didn't expect to find little old me waiting for you though did you, eh?" he aimed a flat footed kick at the other man's ankles, tripping him up.

"Nice catch, Zaeed, how'd you know you'd find him hiding out there. Actually, how'd you know to look for him at all?"

"I didn't, I was in here doing exactly the same thing, jus' in case. Now I got this guy secured, why don't you run along and report to the Commander."

"Right," I said dubiously, "Yeah, Garrus, Lizzers, take the wounded to the infirmary, I'll head up to the bridge."

* * *

The situation was still tense as I gained the bridge. The Shadow Barge was no longer visible through the viewports, but it still hung above the galaxy map platform. Shepard still stood peering at it, as if dissecting it with her eyes. My presence seemed to jar her from her fugue.

"Deputy, report." Her tone was sharper than usual.

"There was a mech stowed away down in the hold. A big one, probably a YMIR. It was one of Wilson's toys. He programmed it to go after the stealth systems and engines."

"Probably timed to coincide with our close approach of the Broker's ship," Shepard said, "have you found him yet?"

"Yes, ma'am. Zaeed found him trying to take out one of the shuttles, he's got him secured right now."

"Good, we'll have to have a chat later, I suspect. For now, we've got bigger issues to deal with." She glanced significantly at the 3-D model of the boxy Q-ship. "We're now between it and the relay, and Joker's convinced that no ship that large can match the Normandy for speed, but I really don't want to run afoul of those teeth." She walked around the model and outlined the square hatches.

"Maybe if we had a decoy or something." I said, looking out at the star field. Shepard's eyes widened a bit, before a smile hit her face.

"That's it!" she sounded more lively now. "Liddle, that is genius." She thumbed her headset radio. "Engineer Donnelly, I need you and your team to take out the Normandy's IFF module. Also, have a man get to work prepping the shuttle for a wild weasel run."

"Aye, Commander, I thought you'd never ask." The engineer replied cheerily.

"Wild weasel?" I asked.

"Yes," Shepard replied, "back in the 20th century on Earth, during the Vietnam conflict, North American air forces developed a program for dealing with enemy anti-air defenses. They'd run in one of their fighters to bait enemy radar, then they'd take out their launch sites with radar tracking missiles. Now, we don't have something big enough to knock out the Barge, but maybe if we can bait it away from the relay…"

* * *

The shuttle jetted out of the small cargo bay, leaving a trail of mech parts and a thin streamer of curling smoke. The crew watched from the crew deck as it turned on its preprogrammed course, engaging FTL in the opposite direction.

"I rigged it up to simulate the mech attack." Donnelly noted. "A spot of extra realism to really fool the buggers." We waited with held breath. "Any minute now."

"The Barge has taken the bait, Joker, all ahead full." The intercom chirped. The crew burst into celebration as the morning's pent up stress abated in a single riotous shout.


	11. Chapter 11: Fallout

Interloper 2: Chapter 11

The celebration gave way and dissolved back into the normal routine as we made the transition back into populated space. Slowly the crew who had had their faces pressed against the glass drifted away, leaving me alone at the window. The kaleidoscope swirl of FTL travel whirled in incandescent patterns.

"Liddle, a word," Shepard's voice came from just behind me. I turned, her expression looked guarded.

"Sure, Commander. What's up?"

"The conference room." She said shortly. And with that she was off. I made for the conference room quickly and quietly. The way Shepard had spoken worried me, it carried none of the relief I would have expected having just narrowly escaped the clutches of the Shadow Broker. If anything, she was more worried, more tense than she had been in the heat of the chase. And yet the rest of the crew seemed none the wiser. Already they were making jokes about the Barge, or making plans to visit the commissary. At least most of them were, a few kept to themselves, wearing their own guarded masks. I tried to put it out of mind as I made for the lab. Mordin was there, bent close to the body of one of the seekers he had pinned to a board. He was busy dissecting it with an array of precision lasers. He didn't seem to notice as I hurried through the lab, towards the conference room door. The room itself was packed, its occupants muttering quietly to themselves. I noted the presence of Garrus, Chakwas, a few I thought I recognized from the old Normandy, Miranda, and at the head of the narrow table, Shepard herself. I took a seat next to Garrus as Shepard called the meeting to order.

"I'm sure most of you are wondering why you've been called in here. Trust me, I honestly wish that this wasn't necessary, but here we are. Now, here's the situation: As we made our close approach to the Shadow Broker's vessel under stealth, an agent of the broker on board triggered an attack with a smuggled mech. Fortunately, the mech was stopped before it managed to disable our systems and leave us out to dry, and the agent was captured attempting to flee the scene, but the whole affair has unmasked something we really can't afford to be dealing with during a mission this important." She paused to look around the room. "I've called each of you her because I know you can be trusted. I hate to say it, but that trust doesn't fall far from this bubble. I don't want to further divide the crew, but that's just the truth of it, the crew is divided, and the possibility of more double agents is one I simply cannot allow."

"We'll have to act fast if we want to catch them all. I can have the security team ready to move by the time we hit the next relay." Miranda said confidently. "There's room to hold them below engineering."

"No, I'm not going to round up everyone who may or may not be working for the Broker."

"Commander, now is not the time to go soft on us. If we've got an insurgency running amok on board, we can't afford to give it more time to work against us."

"I'm not suggesting we let them run free," Shepard said, "But I will not imprison half the crew on a hunch. For now, I just want you all to be on watch. We're also going to have to go silent, no extranet, no communications. I have a suspicion there was something buried under the message we received from the Barge that may have triggered our would be saboteur. You'll also get further assignments as we get more information on what the hell is actually going on. Until that time, you are dismissed." There was a low mumble of assent as the scraping of chairs signaled the departure of most of the assembled crew members. I stayed for a second.

"Commander, I…"

"Don't feel comfortable spying on your fellow shipmates? I understand, I wish there was another way." She gave me a weak smile, one I returned. "So what happened down there, exactly?" I went into a more detailed explanation, from the moment that the YMIR mech burst from the crate, to Liz's dramatic leap onto the mech's back in order to disable it.

"She's still with it now, I think. If I know Elisabeth, she's probably already elbow deep in its brain."

"And you say she took it out with some kind of hacking spike?"

"Yes Commander."

"I'll have to speak with her too, I suppose. Can you vouch for her? Can we trust her?"

"The Shadow Broker's agents almost took out her entire family, I'm pretty sure she's there's no love between them." I noted.

"I suppose you're right." Shepard said with a tired sort of voice. "If you happen to run into her, send her up to see me, alright?"

"Sure thing, Commander."

* * *

I found Liz right where I had left her, down in the cargo bay. She had, as I expected, started poking around inside the hacked YMIR. She had gotten the mech to kneel and she now sat perched on one of its wide shoulders with a wired connection feed running from her Omni-tool into the base of its neck. She looked up and waved as I approached.

"Having fun?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. At first it was a little frustrating. I thought my spike had completely erased whatever Dr. Wilson had done to it," she stuttered a little as she said Wilson's name. I wasn't surprised; with the amount of time the girl had spent tinkering in the armoury, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that the two had struck up a friendship of sorts, "but I dug deeper and I managed to find a couple of fragments. It's going to take a while to wrap my head around them all, his coding is pretty dense. Either way, I think I can reverse any work he did on the Normandy's other mechs. I wonder if the Commander would let me take a look at them."

"That's kind of why I'm down here. The Commander wants to see you." The youngest Romano frowned.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"I'm sure you're not. Just head up to the flight deck whenever you're done here."

"This can wait," she said, sliding down from the mech and dusting herself off. "You're sure I'm not in trouble?"

* * *

Liz spent the better part of the second shift talking to the Commander. I spent a few hours being clucked over by Dr. Chakwas before worming my way out of the infirmary. My continued promises to rest my injuries were falling on increasingly deaf ears. The older doctor had threatened that she would have to sedate me if I showed up in her infirmary again before fully healing. I spent the rest of the shift sitting at the crew deck table, watching and listening. While I was by no means skilled in espionage, what felt like a lifetime among the Normandy crew had given me a pretty good picture of how the ship ran. Something was definitely off. There was a persuasive feeling of unease that had everyone watching each other, whether furtively, or quite obviously.

With so many unknown crew members, it was hard to tell the Broker's men from Cerberus.' Both seemed to act equally suspicious as rumors of what happened in the cargo bay and the noted disappearance of Doctor Wilson leaked down from the upper decks. This general sense of distrust had only worsened as the communication blackout had gone into effect. Just out of earshot, a pair of men muttered between themselves. Before I was able to move in closer, I was met with the beaming face of Elizabeth Romano. She sat down across from me, looking just about ready to burst from barely contained enthusiasm.

"So how'd it go?" I asked, although the answer was written across her face.

"Oh, you know, I've just been promoted." She said.

"Really? Promoted?"

"I'll be taking over the position of Mech Chief once I'm done slicing the YMIR's memory core. I'm not really supposed to tell anyone this, but the Commander's convinced if we can get a fragment of the Shadow Broker's software, we can track it back to its origin."

"Sounds like you'll be busy."

"Oh, I hope so. I've been stuck tinkering with my Omni-tool since we left Cook's Landing. I've got to get back to the mech before the software degrades any further." She scampered off. I couldn't help but laugh quietly as she dashed over to the elevator.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry this is a little late. I'm going to be honest, this is all X-Com's fault. rest assured, now I've managed to slog through the single player I'll be able to continue updating this story on schedule. Thank you for understanding.

-Liddle Out


	12. Chapter 12: Breakthrough

Interloper 2: Chapter 12

Two days after our run-in with the Shadow Barge, conditions had only worsened on the ship. By now the two halves of the crew had figured out what had happened, and the Cerberus members had not taken it well. In the end, Shepard had been forced to segregate the two disparate organizations, banishing the former Broker agents to cots in the cargo bay. There they stood under the watchful eye of the ship's new Mech Chief and the head of the Normandy's security team, Daniels. The man was a vocal Cerberus Loyalist, and he was almost gleeful in his duties as watchdog over the other half, especially the aliens among them. For their part, the Broker's men bore this discrimination with silent frustration, though even their patience was being tested. From the whispers that escaped the cargo bay, they were especially upset that they had been singled out, even though the perpetrator of the attack was Wilson, a man who had always worn Cerberus colours. Feron had taken on a sort of leadership role among them, and was working himself into a state trying to prevent open mutiny. All in all, it wasn't looking good for the mission.

That all changed partway through lunch. The intercom buzzed, and then in a clear voice that hid the mounting tiredness and frustration that had slowly been piling up, Shepard spoke. "Specialists to the conference room. Immediately." "Specialists" was the term Miranda had cooked up to refer to the diverse band the Commander had begun to assemble to face the Collector threat.

"That's us." I called to Garrus.

"I can hear just fine," he groused as he swept crumbs from the altered C-Sec uniform he still insisted on wearing, "You think this is the big breakthrough?"

"I hope so," I sighed, "anything to get off the ship for a while." We stowed our trays and made for the now familiar conference room. I had been there a lot during the past three days, either sitting in on or giving several 'friendly chats' with former Shadow Broker operatives. This was Shepard's solution to the growing divide, a vetting process more thorough than the one that had been hurriedly administered shortly after the Normandy had declared its independence from the Broker's influence. Time and again, Shepard had bemoaned the lack of an asari on board. A simple biotic impression would put us leagues ahead in figuring out the lay of the divided loyalties.

The doors swooshed open, admitting me and the turian. We took seats between Warlord Okeer and Feron, who had been allowed to sit in on the meeting in return for his continued handling of the other half of the crew. The drell remained impassive, though his scales had taken on a paler hue of late. Shepard and Mordin both stood at the head of the room talking quickly. As the final member of the team took a seat, Shepard addressed us all.

"We've just received word through Cerberus tight-beam that the human colony of Horizon is under attack by unknown forces. All that is officially known is that the entire colony went dark only half an hour ago, and that several large contacts have been detected in the system, but intercepted Alliance communications tell another story. We just received this, broadcast from an Alliance team on the ground." She hit a button on the table's central projector. The device sprang to life, emitting a distorted image that none the less showed the fuzzy outlines of curved, wide brimmed heads and insectoid bodies, armed with toothy looking assault rifles.

"That's a lot of distortion," Garrus said, "Is that on our end or is it a result of Collector jamming?"

"This is the last image we got out before the jamming went up, this is the exact same picture the person who took it saw," Miranda said, "what I believe you are seeing is the inside of a biotic field, a novel solution to the seeker swarms, but not a sustainable one in combat. Most modern amps won't let you sustain a field that big for very long, and it must put enormous strain on the user."

"Luckily it's not something we have to risk, Doctor Solus, if you would." Shepard gestured towards the scientist salarian.

"Thank you. As you know, the seeker swarms are masters of bypassing defenses, and are difficult to hit with weapons fire. I tried many things, armour, kinetic barriers, even biotics, as Operative Lawson mentioned, but to no success."

"Doctor Solus, I thought you said you had something to aid us against these… swarms. Are we supposed to rush to this human colony's rescue as naked as children in the hopes that the Collectors do not recognize us?" Okeer rumbled.

"That is the gist of it, though there is more," Mordin countered, "through study of the samples both live and dead, I have found a flaw in their design, their identify friend, foe, liable to fouling. I have prepared a small module that can be affixed to armour, will put out a signal similar to that of seeker, should make user _invisible_ to swarm."

"And you're sure of this? Complete invisibility to the seeker swarms?" Okeer said.

"Unknown, have not properly tested on large numbers of swarms, will require further field testing. It is unnecessary to be afraid, entire Solus clutch well known for achieving results in science, well, all but clutch brother Nonos, chose career as literary critic, most… unusual." He sniffed before continuing. "Familial relations not relevant, I will be attending mission first hand to make necessary results."

"Doctor Solus, I have every confidence in your inventions. You don't need to risk yourself by joining us on the planet."

"I must insist, Commander, besides, the calibrations may be, finicky, best I be on hand to make needed changes, yes, I will be joining you."

"Alright then, myself and Mordin will be going to ground, along with Miranda. We will form Strike Group A. Our objective will be to investigate the Collectors' purpose here, and put a stop to them. We'll take the shuttle down first and establish a landing zone. After the shuttle returns, Warmaster Okeer will lead down a squad of himself, Deputy Liddle, Garrus, and Zaeed. This squad will sweep the perimeter and try to make contact with the Alliance team that produced this image."

"Pah, I once led armies, now I have little more than a pod of mewling babes," Okeer snorted.

"You watch who you call 'babe' you overgrown reptile," retorted Zaeed, his already twisted face growing more frightening.

"Enough! When Cerberus put together this merry band, they told me they had selected the best. If you're not ready to start acting like it, I'll go down there and sort out the whole mess by myself." Shepard spat in an uncharacteristic show of anger.

"Yes… Commander," was all Zaeed could manage. Okeer held his tongue.

"Commander, if I could… I would like to join the mission." All eyes fell on the drell, Feron. He did not flinch from the attention. "I know you may not be willing to trust me with all that has occurred on board, but let me assure you that whatever you think of my loyalties, I have no love of the Collectors. It is well known they stole away many of the drell when our home planet fell into industrial ruination."

"I'm going to allow it," Shepard assented, "you'll be part of my squad. All of you, suit up. We arrive in system within the hour. Dismissed."

* * *

The air was cold in the cargo bay, colder even than the stares of the still segregated crew members. Strike Group B stood in loose formation in the wake of the elderly krogan Warmaster, each man among us running last minute checks of our weapons. I felt particularly naked without the Bluewire Omni-tool strapped to my wrist. The overcharged overload I had unleashed on the YMIR mech had shorted out the device's tiny mass effect emitters, leaving me with little choice but to take down one of the armoury's stock models, a Skunkworks Lightening tool with a few baseline programs installed. The rest of my gear, however, was in top condition, with additional ammunition blocks prepared for both incendiary rounds and extra power cells for the Mattock's phasic envelope generator. A fresh coat of polish had my bloodstone green armour glinting darkly whenever light fell on it. I was not the only one who had put some extra time into his armour. Okeer's own suit had been pulled from the wreckage of some of his luggage and given and polished till it positively glowed a deep blood red. The joints of the piece were all extensively worked over, yet not in the fine detail one would have expected from human armour. Instead, the armour depicted a running battle between several bands of krogan etched across the breastplate. When asked about the suit, Okeer had grudgingly told the tale of the ancient Warmasters of old Tuchanka, the most powerful of which he had based his own armour on. The Warmaster, an unnamed scion of clan Krux, had led half the clans of the major continent against the other half in a war that had finally climaxed in the atomic fire that claimed Tuchanka's green spaces and sent the planet into an unending nuclear winter. After that the krogan had given me a curt nod and left to charge the armour's barriers, which studded the swells of the pieces like roughhewn limpets.

"Here comes the shuttle. The lot of you better be ready to follow orders." The massive krogan grated out through the rippled conch-like helmet that covered his head. He hefted the blue-grey Claymore shotgun in one hand. The black and yellow shuttle screamed into the bay, sliding hatches already opening as soon as it cleared the small bubble of atmosphere. The pilot jabbered from within.

"Get on board, on the double. The doc's magic bug repellant works, but the Commander's team ran into more resistance on the ground than we expected!"

"You heard the flyer! Get on board!" Okeer said. He was the first up into the passenger compartment, charging ahead of the small strike team. We all piled in, taking up our drop positions and securing weapons and gear. The shuttle slid from the bay and made an immediate flip planetwards, screaming in at the planet like a falling star. The slightly heavy atmosphere roared outside as a thunderous wave of pressure built up around the hull. The wave finally split in a crash like the opening peal of a thunder storm. The shuttle shed its cocoon of fire and smoke and shot towards the landing zone, barely skimming the ground. I looked outside as we passed the landscape in a rapidly clarifying blur as we slowed down. The land was thick and green with plant life, and crisscrossed with small brooks. It reminded me of Eden Prime, in a way. It even had its own symbol of the coming Reaper threat. I locked my eyes on the tall and spindly edifice of the landed Collector cruiser and unconsciously stroked the twin twists of a prothean token that hung from a greying and weathered cord. The shuttle bucked in a bout of turbulence and I tucked it back down the front of my armour.

"Drop zone in sight, prep for landing." The pilot gave us a little warning before dropping like a rock. Immediately small arms fire began to rattle off the metal sides of the shuttle. "Out you go, can't stay long." Zaeed pounded on the hatch release and the door popped open. We charged, as one, out to meet the Collectors.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Here come the Collectors!


	13. Chapter 13: The Collectors, Part 1

Interloper 2: Chapter 13

The battlefield was more ordered than some I had fought on, though not by much. Shepard had pulled her advance team into a loose crescent and was now fighting off more than a dozen Collectors from rough firing pits blown in the ground by hand held grenades. The Collectors had taken up positions among the outer prefabricated buildings and discarded agricultural equipment and seemed quite content to just blast away at the entrenched specialists. Their disposition, of course, gave us the perfect opportunity to take them in the flank. Okeer was first to move, leveling his titanic shotgun on the nearest Collector. The Claymore barked like a hell hound and the insectoid was near shredded. It collapsed in a ruinous pile as the Warmaster took up its former position. Garrus and I moved up next, running crouched under Zaeed's covering fire. We fell in behind a stack of heavy looking crates and set our sights on a nearby cluster of Collector soldiers. Garrus' tossed grenade fried their barriers, allowing me to pick them off with tight bursts of incendiary fire. I dropped to replace my depleted thermal clip as the turian switched to his long rifle.

"More of 'em, right side." Zaeed spat. His covering fire slackened as he switched his point of aim. Activating the servos in my armour, I dragged a crate around to cover our sides from this new attack and threw myself around to get a better look. More Collectors were advancing from the center of the colony, maybe five or six in this group. Okeer's Claymore slashed out again, taking one of them in the legs. The foot solider went down and thrashed piteously until Garrus put a round through its curved helm.

"They're falling back!" Shepard's voice cut the static, "Keep the pressure on, we'll regroup at the marked building." My HUD flashed, marking a two story housing unit on the edge of town. Shepard's team rose from their firing pits and loosed a storm of fire, mixed with the salarian's weaving tech grenades and the Cerberus officer's powerful biotics. The last of the original Collectors either went down, or else flew into full retreat as they came, leaving only the reinforcements to deal with. Then, through the din of combat, I heard it.

**Assuming direct control.**

The deep, metallic voice boomed from one of the nearby soldiers. Its skin cracked as powerful biotic forces coursed through its mind and body, lifting it into the air and causing it throw back its head and unleash a pulse of energy.

"Hit that one, hit it with everything you've got!" I found myself yelling. Whether by their own threat analysis or because of my call to action, most of the team joined me in my attack. Small arms splashed across the Reaper controlled Collector's powerful barriers from multiple directions, first the short bursts of my own Mattock, then the bright pulse of Garrus' sniper rifle, the long tear of a submachine gun and the howl of assault rifles and shotguns. By the time the Harbinger puppet's feet touched ground, its barriers were little more than wisps. They yielded completely to the Commander's heavy grenade launcher. The thump-gun gave its distinctive cough and the puppet's form was suddenly shattered. It wailed as it disintegrated into vapour and smoke.

* * *

"You got here just in time," Shepard said as we moved in on the marked building, "these things are even nastier in person." The building was empty. Shepard set Feron and Garrus on watch and gathered for a short, in-field war council. "It looks like the long range communications blackout is still in effect, but our personal radios and the tight beam up to the Normandy seem unaffected."

"So the plan remains the same?" I asked.

"Yes, everyone gather round." She lit her Omni-tool and projected an aerial view of the tightly clustered colony. "We're here, right on the edge of town. Thermal scans place the Collector activity all over the place, and they seem pretty active. Strike A will need to run a street to street sweep, taking out Collector's wherever we find them. Strike B," she highlighted a region of the colony about three blocks to the East, "will be heading to the nearby spaceport. That's where the last Alliance broadcast came from, and our eye in the sky picked up some weak transmissions still coming from an on-site warehouse. Okeer, you're going to have to beat feet to make it over there, scans indicate the Collector's in that area are pretty riled up."

"I'll give them something to get riled up over," the krogan said, "Let me just take care of that for you, Commander." Okeer pulled off his conch shell helmet and stared at the 3-D model with beady eyes. "They will not stand before us." He jammed the helmet back onto his head and stomped outside. After a few more words from the Commander, the two teams separated.

* * *

"It's official, I hate these things," Garrus groused as another quartet of the winged insectoids descended into positions in front of us. I couldn't help but agree with him as we dropped behind one of the ever-present stasis tanks that dotted the small colony, these ones thankfully empty. The Collector's loud chittering was overwritten by a loud blast of, **Assuming control of this form**.

"The universe must be playing on hard difficulty," I muttered to myself as I lined up a shot on the glowing Collector puppet. The bright orange streaks of incendiary rounds skipped one after another off of the swirling barriers.

"You know, with the way these things throw barriers around, I'm almost wishing we were the ones dragging Lawson around," Garrus grunted. He threw a cautious tech blast around the pod, overheating the weapons of two of the Collectors. The remaining one launched a hail of metal fragments that shredded his shields and nicked the armour on his arm and hand. He withdrew his appendage quickly and ducked low as the barrage continued.

"I know what you mean, I could think of a few people I'd really appreciate coming along for this mission," I said, thinking of the convict Jack and her souped up biotics or perhaps the asari Justicar's age and experience.

"I bet you could," Garrus said slyly. My response was cut off as the pod rocked from Harbinger's biotic charge. The black-orange and slow moving sphere tore at the other side of the stasis pod, buckling it and almost rolling it over us. We quickly retreated under renewed covering fire. Okeer's shotgun saw a quick end to Harbinger's would be avatar.

"How much further to this spaceport then?" Zaeed asked as the last of these new ambushers fell.

"Should be coming into sight… now." We turned the corner. More than twenty Collectors turned their yellow glowing eyes on us, chittering madly.

Okeer smiled.

* * *

The battlefield was a ruin. Doors, windows, and walls facing the open ground of the small spaceport were shattered and broken. Corpses were strewn across the open ground, either Collector, humanoid husk, or the grotesque amalgamations of steel and the flesh of several humans that made up the Reaper's engines of war. Several humans lay among them, either frozen in the rictus of seeker stasis, or else made limp by the throes of death. The grounds that separated the tarmac from the nearby buildings were torn by the rents made by a veritable hurricane of kinetic accelerator rounds. The fight had been long, and had the Commander and her squad not shown up at the peak of fighting, meeting a wave of freshly made husks with fire and a spray of grenades. The battle had ended with the dropping of the floating jellyfish-like Pretorian. The thing had buzzed with barely constrained energy as its twin particle beams lashing out wherever one of us attempted to line up a shot on it. Our salvation had finally come from Okeer, who had charged the thing as it skimmed closer to the ground. With the living weapon platform distracted, we had been able to take it apart with carefully aimed salvoes. Now we just stood and looked out over the field.

"Reminds me of Virmire," I said as I kicked over a broken Collector. "You know, I don't know what's scarier, the way they kept coming, or that I'm starting to get used to this kind of thing." I spat on the ground through the open faceplate of my helmet. The smell was hellish, but the breeze was enough to make up for it.

"Worried you've been fighting monsters too long?" Garrus asked, "We turians have a similar saying," he added when I gave him a questioning look.

"That or my staring contest with the Abyss is starting to yield results, the jury's still out." I spat again. "We better get over to the Commander, looks like she's already found our next impossible task."

The Commander stood in close council with Miranda and Okeer in the center of the open space, all of them looking over what looked like a massive computer tower. I looked around, trying to spot the telltale towers of the GUARDIAN laser defense system, but none were evident. As the two of us approached, their words grew clearer.

"… still trying to get the doors open, Commander." Miranda said.

"I still say some well-placed explosives could crack the place with minimal effort." Okeer suggested. He had removed his helmet again.

"No, I'm not risking any of the Alliance personnel still on the ground," Shepard said firmly, "We'll have to hack our way in."

"Need I remind you, Commander, that Cerberus is currently considered to be in a state of war by the Systems Alliance, and that they would consider you a traitor? Are these the type of men you feel the need to protect?" Okeer responded.

"Yes, they are," Shepard said through gritted teeth, "the matter is settled. We are not going to set any explosives. Now, are you going to stand down, or am I going to have to throw you down?" the two titans stood at odds, Okeer with his massive stature and Shepard with her own commanding presence, smaller physically yet no less in impact. For a tense handful of seconds, it almost looked as if the two would come to blows, but finally Okeer relented. The proud Warmaster took a step backwards and gave Shepard a dismissive look that didn't quite manage to convince.

"It is good for you that you still have a part to play in my plans, Commander Shepard. Only remember that I will not forget this. Not even a Spectre of the Council speaks to a Krogan Warmaster in this way." He spun and left the small council.

"It may have been better to listen to his advice, Commander," Miranda said quietly, "his expertise may still assist us in our plans."

"You're probably right, but you didn't put me in Command of this operation to blindly follow the word of my advisors. Now, get me a line to the Normandy, we need to get a door open."

* * *

"This is Normandy, we are go for a quick slice and dice. Tell me again why we need to get into this warehouse so badly?" Joker asked gamely.

"We've been over this, Joker. Firstly, this Alliance team will be the first surviving first-hand account of the early stages of a Collector attack, and any intel they might have could be useful. Secondly, the team was supposed to be here in an effort to bolster Alliance border defenses. Maybe something they've got here might give us a way to drive off the bastards in the pointy rock."

"Well, why didn't you say so, Commander? Any chance to get back at the guys who killed my baby," the pilot said. His voice held little of its usual humor. A quick scan had confirmed that the cruiser currently buried tail down in the soft mud of Horizon was the very same that had pierced the first Normandy with powerful particle weapons, finding the ship even while it ran silently on its patrols. "Opening data throttles now…" Joker said. Time passed as the Normandy's VI ran its security override programs at full speed. "hmm."

"Hmm? What does 'hmm' mean, Joker?" the Commander asked into her radio.

"It's probably nothing, Commander. Just a little static on the channel. Door should be open…. Now." The doors swung open on command. The open doorway was not empty. The open doorway was bristling with a wall of assault rifles. Angry men stood on the other end of the weapons.

"Comm… Commander? What in the hell are you doing here?"


	14. Chapter 14: The Collectors, Part 2

Interloper 2 Chapter 14

"Kaidan?" Shepard lowered her weapon. The young biotic lieutenant did not lower his. Nor did the men he had with him. From what I could see, he had gathered about a half dozen of the local militia to him. They stood apart from the two survivors of the Alliance team, whose dull blue hardsuits bore the scars of recent fighting and whose eyes looked ever so slightly glazed over. From the looks of things, the few hours of had taken a toll usually only seen after days of solid conflict.

"So it's true. Ashley's report has been passed around the military channels, but I wasn't sure I believed it. So, is it true?"

"Is what true, Kaidan? That I'm alive? I think you can see that for yourself." The Commander noted the weapons still pointed in her face and raised her own once more.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about. I notice that's not an Alliance uniform your 'friend' there is wearing," his eyes flicked to Miranda's black and gold, "so when did you sell out to Cerberus, Commander?"

"You are out of line, Lieutenant." Shepard's voice was cold.

"No, Shepard, you are out of line. I lost the Normandy just as much as you did, but I returned to the Alliance, I didn't run off and join the enemy. I didn't think you could have done this, Shepard, but here we are. Honestly, I don't know what to make of it, you couldn't even contact us, contact me? It took you accidentally running into Ash to get so many as a handful of words back to command. What were you doing for more than two years?"

"You want to know what I was doing? I was dead, Kaidan. My body was passed around by petty pirates and information brokers! While you went home, and had a debriefing, and went back to your job leading Alliance marines, I was bought and sold as a trophy! So don't go off at me for not hopping straight to my duty station the minute I came to. Cerberus put me back together to fight the Collectors, but they don't own me any more than you do, Lieutenant." The Commander's voice became almost raw as she angrily dressed down the Alliance biotic, but the final sentence was pronounced without fire, instead becoming quiet and cold. Kaidan, for his part, looked horrified at what he was hearing.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't know…"

"Damn right you didn't, maybe you should think about that before you go accusing me of treason. Now, we don't have time to reminisce, the Collectors are here snatching human citizens and I plan to stop them. But I don't have anything big enough to scare off that cruiser. Your team is here improving the local defenses, correct?"

"You seem to know a lot about our mission here," Kaidan said guardedly, "yes, we've been working on something. It isn't ready yet though."

"What've you got?" Garrus asked, moving up towards the door, "I didn't spot any GUARDIAN towers of Javelin silos on the way in." Kaidan gave a little double take at the turian's appearance.

"Garrus? You signed on with Cerberus too?" the poor biotic lieutenant's voice cracked slightly.

"I joined Shepard. So what have you got? Some kind of secret weapon?" the turian cocked his head slightly, waiting for an answer. A cracking sound from the distant Collector ship drew the eyes of the rest of the team.

"I'm sorry Garrus, but that's classified. What I can tell you is that it'll knock the pants off of anything anyone else is doing, even Cerberus."

"I would be careful throwing around such assertions." Miranda said knowingly.

"I'm sure you've got something very flashy cooked up in one of your labs, _Ceberus_," Kaidan shot back, using the organization's name like a slur, "but the Alliance doesn't feed their scientists to whatever their latest project is. Anyway, once you see it in action, you might just find yourself impressed." Miranda struck him with an appraising eye.

"While I'm sure you have a few qualities that might impress, a none-functioning weapon system is not one of them. Commander, I recommend we rendezvous with the Normandy and nuke the site from orbit. With care we can minimize civilian casualties." Kaidan's retort was cut off by an ominous burst of static over the shared comm. channels, followed by a garbled smatter of Joker's voice.

"…ander…. It's in the….. –routing major sys….eads dow…." The channel was suddenly cut.

"Joker, report!" Shepard yelled into the comm. "Normandy? Anyone?" the Normandy remained silent, though from where we stood on the ground, it could still be seen lazily circling even with the naked eye. "Looks like taking off and nuking the problem away is no longer an option. Alenko, how close is this wonder weapon of yours to operational?"

"Our biggest problem is in the auto-aiming programs. With the programs properly calibrated, we could just step over to the terminal over there and splash the Collectors in seconds."

"What would it take to calibrate it?" Garrus asked. Just for a second, I thought I heard a note of glee in his question.

"The programs are insanely complex, supercomputer level stuff," Kaidan said mournfully, "there's no way we could hand tune it in time. We're going to have enter the weapon installation and aim it manually."

"Doesn't sound too bad, why don't you point the way?" Shepard said. Another tremor ran through the ground. In the sky above, the Normandy stopped circling and made a number of slow loops.

"It's not that simple. The instillation is crawling with those things, the team I sent to hold it hasn't reported for half an hour. Also, you'll need my codes to get in."

"Ah. Alright Alenko, here's how it's going to be. You may not trust me, and you might not trust Cerberus, but there's no way you and your militiamen are going to reach that weapon alone. So, in interest of saving this colony, you're just going to have to trust that I hate these Collectors just as much as you, if not more."

"That I have no problem believing," Kaidan said, finally lowering his weapon. Most of his companions did the same. "And Shepard…" the redheaded commander turned at his final halting words. "It's good to see you."

* * *

The weapons installation that Kaidan led us to looked almost idyllic tucked away in a shallow valley a distance away from the center of the colony. _Almost_ idyllic, it had a few alterations that marred the otherwise pleasant grounds, alterations such as the ragged hole blasted in the squat cylinders side walls, about four twisted wrecks of parked Makos, and a whole mess of Collectors mobbing the entrance way. I pulled back under the crumpled wing of the Alliance fighter-bomber, one of the only craft to be caught in the air at the time of the attack according to Kaidan. Its brothers had been caught on the ground by seekers, and the fighter-bomber, Sierra 117, soon joined them groundward as a particle beam had sheared off its flight controls. Under its cover Shepard's reduced ground team sat huddled, Garrus pressed close to his rifle scope, Okeer barely covered by the small ships frame and seated on the ruin of its engine block as if it were a throne, Feron coiled like a snake with watchful eyes, and Kaidan looking uncomfortable yet determined. Shepard sat in the center. She wore her usual war mask as she knelt silently in the dirt. After a few seconds surveying the scene, she turned to give out our marching orders.

"Alright Alenko, tell us what we should be expecting down there."

"The installation is about fifty meters deep, a set of cylindrical hallways wrapped around the central shaft. The fusion generator and ammunition reservoir are tucked at the bottom of the installation and the weapon platform is four levels down. We'll need to breach whatever defenses the Collectors have set up, fight our way down to the platform, defend the weapon as it moves into battery, and then aim the thing."

"Good to know. Okay people, listen up. Garrus, you're running lookout and overwatch. You think you're about to be overrun, you pull out, understand?"

"I understand, Commander," Garrus bobbed his head and motioned to take in the crumbled wing that gave us cover. "I know a thing or two about keeping my head down."

"As long as you don't find out a thing or two about being down a head. The rest of you, we're going to be hitting some close quarters once we breach the outer cordon. Now, we've run into this 'Harbinger' entity a couple of times down here, but never in more than one place at once. SOP is going to be to shoot on sight, hit it with everything you've got. Otherwise, keep your eye out for targets of opportunity. Also, I want you all running disrupter ammo, I don't want anyone loading tungsten. Priority is going to have to go to not damaging the building, so no explosives once we get inside. Now, who's with me?" she finished her brief with the dramatic cocking of her unfolded grenade launcher. "Okeer's on point, move up in pairs behind him. Alenko, you're with me."

The attack commenced with a blast that knocked a cluster of four enemies to the ground. At once, we rose from our positions and advanced towards the installation. At each piece of scant cover, one pair would drop and cover the advance of the other, with Okeer keeping steady pressure from the front. Shepard's grenade launcher thumped as I sprinted ahead of Feron towards the nearest cover, an overturned civilian vehicle pockmarked with bullet holes. In my hands was a recovered particle weapon that Shepard had pried from the hands of an enemy assassin. Its odd, curved components seemed almost to writhe under my grip. It emitted a harsh shriek as I unleashed it on the nearest pack of Collectors. It was a marvelous and terrible thing. With almost no apparent recoil, the thin yellowish beam split the air and the Collectors almost equally; shearing great chunks of their armour away like some futuristic carving knife would separate a flank of cooked meat. I fired only in short bursts, conserving the energy cell that would no doubt deplete rapidly under continuous fire. Already Shepard and Kaidan were dashing to one of the twisted hulks parked outside the rent in the building. Feron expertly knocked over a lone drone who was trying to move in behind the two officers. They threw themselves against the destroyed tank. Shepard paused to reload, and then loosed another salvo at the disorganized drones near the breach. Kaidan raised a stiff palm, tossing a trio of Collectors back. Now it was our turn to move. Ducking under a stream of bullets from Garrus on the hill, I latched the particle beam rifle onto one of the maglock strips on my back and drew the mattock. Feron and I raced around the downed aircar and made across the open ground. We caught a little fire, but it was ill-aimed and mostly went wide. At close range, we unleashed our firepower into a Collector Guardians deployed barrier wall, collapsing it inwards and allowing Okeer to leap over and tackle the Guardian itself. The Collector disappeared under a mountain of flesh and steel.

"Outer wall secured, prep disrupter rounds. Entry on my mark." Shepard had reached the breach in the wall. She peeked around the corner only to withdraw as a flurry of rounds passed close by. "Barriers forward gentlemen, we're in for some heavy resistance." Okeer had now reached the hole in the wall, repeating Shepard's look inside the stout building. When the return fire came, he did not shy away. Instead, he charged inside with roar. Shepard cursed quietly. "Damn it, Liddle, Feron, get in there. Make sure the 'Warmaster' doesn't get himself killed."

"On it, Commander," I said as Feron and I entered the station. Okeer had left I wide wake of broken Collectors as he passed. Now he stood hunched at the juncture of the outer, circular hallway and the perpendicular path that led deeper into the installation. At first it looked like he was just catching his breath, but as we drew closer it became obvious that the krogan's armour was ragged in places, red-black blood spattered upon dark red plates. Already the pinkish flesh underneath had begun to knit back together as the Warmaster's huge chest heaved. By the time we approached, he was standing tall again. He guffawed heartily as we skated through a puddle of his own blood and into cover behind the opposite side of the dividing arch.

"This is it. This is war. I have been a scientist so long I had almost forgotten what it was to be a Warmaster!" He spun around from behind the scant cover and unloaded on the nearest pair of aliens. A thin yellow particle beam answered, splashing across Okeer's barriers.

"Coming up behind!" Shepard yelled as she and Kaidan moved up the hallway. Kaidan's biotic barriers blocked the entire archway, allowing Shepard a chance to plug the Collector sniper with well-placed pistol shots. I dropped my own target, giving Feron room to move up into more substantial cover. Just when it looked safe for the rest of us to follow, he was battered down by something that lurched around the corner. Tall, ugly, and bulbous, the Collector's construct tottered uneasily on two legs. It's upper body ballooned outwards around a long, horrifically human bio-weapon.

"Everybody, get down!" I yelled too late as the inhuman artillery piece bucked from some interior force. The biotic pulse it emitted blew down the corridor in waves, breaking against the steel rim of the archway. The splash drove us all back into the walls, all except for Okeer. The Krogan held his ground, pumping round after round from his massive shotgun until it clicked a final time.

"I'm out!" he said as he reached for more thermal clips and found none. The gruesome scion rounded on us again, biotic snout aimed right at Shepard.

* * *

Author's Note:

NonSolus: Yup, here it is. I assume you're talking about the whole Kaidan/Shepard confrontation, because otherwise I'll look a little silly. But yes, they're going to have to talk this over. Unfortunately, the battlefield really isn't the place. We'll most likely be seing more of this play out later.

Phygmalion: Welcome to the story, I'm glad you like it! A pet peeve of mine has always been excessive angst, so i try to keep it out of my writing. And while I'm not sure what you mean by micro analysis of combat, i do like to keep those scenes fairly concise. Feel free to keep reviewing, i'd be happy to hear any constructive criticism you might have.

-Liddle Out


	15. Chapter 15: The Collectors, Part 3

Interloper 2 Chapter 15

The Scion's bulbous back swelled again in preparation for another strike, the trunk like barrel of its weapon glowed with oily blue light. Before it could fire though, something collided with it. Feron had leapt up to his feet with all the speed of a coiled spring, wrapping his arms about the barrel and throwing of its line of sight. The weapon discharged, demolishing a roughly circular patch of wall. The force threw Feron off and he fell to the ground at the scion's feet. His shiny black breastplate was now a smoky grey matte and had shed its ceramic coat in several places.

"Take that thing out!" somebody yelled. I found myself bounding forward to meet the weapons platform. I ducked under the swinging barrel as it brought itself back into line. Close up, the biomechanical monster was even uglier. The great holes blasted by Okeer's Claymore certainly didn't improve on its beauty. The scion swelled again. This time I had a good look into its inner workings. The blue glow that leaked from the barrel's mouth and infused the things upper body sacs seemed to start in a series of connected nodes, strung like beads through the human soup that made up the weapon. A flash of inspiration hit me. As close as I was to the beast, there wasn't time to draw a pistol of enough space to fire the fire without fear of backwash. With no other option, I turned the butt of my rifle on one of the nodes, swinging with all the augmented might my suit and muscles could spare. The node cracked, leaking a glowing fluid. The node survived, however, and the ominous growl of the weapon's initiation phase stung my ears. I brought the rifle down again, harder this time. The node shattered. Too late, I realized that all the energy had to go somewhere, and with the containment broken, out in all directions was the only option. The nodes popped, one by one until something bigger blew. The blast picked me up off my feet and knocked me over. A fine mist settled on the hallway.

"You alright there, Liddle?" Kaidan called from behind the twisted remains of his cover.

"I think I'll survive." I groaned and released a squirt of the adrenaline-laced medigel. It was enough to get me moving, and it quieted the growing discomfort in my side. A strong hand helped me to my feet. Shepard clapped me on the back and let me find my balance before moving on to the next member of the team. Feron still lay on the ground, but at least he was moving now. His armour still smoked in the places where it had been in contact with the firing weapon.

"That is not an experience I am anxious to repeat," the drell said as he doffed his helmet to catch a breath of unfiltered air. His neck rills flared in distaste.

"Hold still," Kaidan knelt and ran an Omni-tool over the fallen soldier, "looks like you've got some nasty contact burns, a little internal bleeding," he hit the pump on Feron's medigel dispenser. "That'll stabilize you for now. Commander, I think he'll pull through, but he's in no shape to keep fighting."

"I have to agree, Commander," Feron said with a cough, "though I think I can walk. I will find my way back to Garrus unaided." Shepard nodded and keyed her radio.

"Garrus, did you get any of that?"

"It's all clear out here, Commander," the turian replied through a hiss of static. "Send him out, I'm ready to cover him if we've got any bugs hiding in the cracks."

"Thanks Garrus, the rest of you, let's get this weapon working."

* * *

Feet pounded on steel as the running battle continued through the halls and staircases of the Alliance weapon installation. Another Collector was blasted away as Okeer turned to force closed a set of double doors.

"That ought to hold them," he said confidently, allowing the overheated shotgun to vent. With fresh thermal clips running low throughout the party, we had been forced to start running onboard omnigel through the weapons to cool them down. As a consequence, the weapons spat out a rusty looking mist when reloaded.

"How much further?" I asked, leaning against a nearby wall. My own rifle was slung with a broken stock, leaving me reliant on my trusty Stinger.

"It's just through this doorway," Kaidan said. He placed a hand up against a pad that hung about halfway up the wall. The pad seemed to scan for a second before it chimed and let the door slowly roll open. "Damn." I peered past him to get a look through. His assessment wasn't far off; the door had opened onto a deep shaft that descended almost out of sight. The shaft itself was empty aside from a central column made of what looked like glass, banded with dull grey coils. "If you think that's impressive, you should try looking up." My eyes drifted upwards.

Suspended in the open shaft was a silhouetted disk, attached at four points to runners that climbed the walls as far up as I could see. The problem took a while to hit me. I had had to look up to see the platform.

"Oh."

"Yeah, this could be a problem," Shepard joined us in the doorway, "looks like we're going to need to get a line up there somehow and shimmy up through the cracks. You've still got that magnetic catapult, right?"

"Yeah, I… Wait… No, my Omni-tool was stripped in the mech attack on the Normandy. I'm stuck with this stock model." I held up my hand to show the shiny new tool.

"That doesn't leave us with many options," Shepard said. A dent was knocked in the closed door by a blow from the outside. "Ideas, people."

"I have an idea," Kaidan spoke from the opening into the shaft, "but you're not going to like it."

"We don't have time for pleasantries, Alenko. What've you got?"

"The platform isn't too far up from here. I'm pretty sure I can get at least one person up there using my biotics."

"Are you talking about levitating one of us up there?" Shepard asked.

"Yes, if we get one of us up there with a line, they can hook it onto something and the rest of us can climb up. The only question is…"

"I should be the one," I interrupted. I flushed a little as the two soldiers looked at me incredulously. "I mean, we can't send you up first, Commander. What if Kaidan drops you?"

"I will _not_ drop her," Kaidan said.

"And besides," I said quickly, "without all the Alliance mods and cybernetics, I'm the lightest here by far. I'm also a pretty good climber." That last part wasn't entirely true, but I had already dug myself a pretty deep hole, there was nothing for it but to keep digging."

"He's got a point, Commander." Kaidan agreed, "We'll need to do this quickly, that door's not designed to take much more of a beating."

"Alright," Shepard relented, "let's get a line on you."

The Commander's Omni-tool quickly produced a long length of nano-fiber cord, which was hooked to my belt. Leaving my Mattock, extra ammo, grenades, and a few of the heavier element of my hardsuit behind on the floor, I was almost ready to begin the ascent, at least physically. As I stepped up to the edge, I tried not to look down for fear that I wouldn't be able to go through with the climb.

"Alight, let's do this." I said before drawing a shuddering breath. Little arcs of static began to wash over me as Kaidan engaged his biotics. The sudden feeling of weightlessness was nothing I hadn't felt before, but it still wasn't something I was entirely used to. I kicked off from the lip of the doorway and began me ascent up the shaft, drifting slowly upwards and towards the opposite wall. I made contact briefly, kicking off once more and bouncing back across the shaft. About halfway across the span, I felt a little weight drop back into my feet. I dropped, falling even as I grabbed at the runner attached to the wall. A quick dot of Omni-gel was enough to stick me in place.

"What the hell was that, Alenko!" I yelled down, gripping the runner tightly. My heart began to pound fiercely, my breathing raced, sounding loud and ragged inside my helmet.

"Keep going, I've got you," Kaidan said, though his voice was strained. The feeling of weightlessness returned. Without waiting, I began to swarm up the runner, pulling myself up hand over hand. I mentally kicked myself for volunteering for the climb. I had almost forgotten that Kaidan had to have been repelling the seeker swarms for more than an hour. Even as this thought crossed my mind, I felt weight returning again. I hauled myself up as quickly as I could as I felt heavier and heavier. As I reached the platform, my full weight returned. I was just able to grab a hold of one of the great gears on which the gun rested.

"You alright up there?" Shepard yelled up. I strained, hauling against the steel gearing. I managed to fit another arm up and over the edge of the platform. "Liddle?"

"Give me a second," I replied. Bracing both feet against the wall, I lifted myself up and rolled onto the platform. "I'm up!"

"Hook tha…" the order was cut off by a burst of weapons fire from below me. I hurried over to one of the support struts that carried the massive enclosure of the Alliances secret weapon and wrapped the line around, securing it back on itself before running back to the edge.

"All tied up, Commander!" the shooting stopped for a brief second as first one, then another form shimmied out onto the line and began hauling themselves up. The firefight broke out again behind them. I lent a hand to the first to make it up. Shepard hopped up onto the platform just ahead of the biotic. Kaidan climbed dizzily to his feet, looking much worse for wear.

"Let's get this thing ready to fire. Are you going to be okay, Alenko?" Shepard approached the casing of the weapon. The actual aperture of the device was suspended about a meter off of the deck. It was a low dome with a wide opening banded by more of the dull grey metal. Four segmented blast shields cloaked the device, each one inlaid with the round nodules of mass effect field generators. The whole platform fizzed and snapped with a static that betrayed the presence of a whole lot of element zero.

"Just give me a second," the winded biotic picked his way across the conduits and piping that covered the lofted disk. He ran an Omni-tool across a panel and popped it open. "I can access the firing controls from here. Going up!" he pulled back on a lever and the dish began to climb. The line that had given us access to the platform frayed and snapped as it grew taught. Alenko began directing us to crank the manual controls, getting the massive aperture to at least point in the right direction when we broke the cover of the squat bunker. Above us, the ceiling split and irised out to admit strong beams of light. With a grinding halt, we stopped, just peeking from the metal roof. On the ground below the complex a few scattered Collectors attested to Garrus' successful overwatch. Ahead of us, the Collector ship loomed like a pillar.

"Shift that handle, we're too far over!" Shepard ordered. I spun the mechanism. The aperture ground slowly into position. "Is there any way to speed this up?"

"This assembly wasn't designed for manual aiming!" Kaidan shouted back. He had busied himself tearing multicoloured wires from the panel and splicing them together.

"There! We've got it!" Shepard leaned in to sight across the dome. "Wind her up, Kaidan."

"You're going to want to stand back!" Kaidan yelled. We both jumped away from the weapon as a brilliant blue light built up beneath it. "Firing…. Now!" static burst from the aperture, sparking against the platform. The weapon unleashed a piercing blue lance of light which seemed to flicker and flow. The impact point on the cruiser was low and on the outer edge. The weapon brushed aside the weakened barriers in seconds, tunneling through the ship and out the other side. A sound reached us even over the angry howl of the gun. It rumbled up from underneath, shaking the entire platform. The cruiser began to lift.

"Keep the beam on it! I want that ship gone!" Shepard ordered, but already the beam was sputtering.

"It's no use, we're about to blow our coolant!" Kaidan shouted back over the noise, "shutting down now!" the beam stopped abruptly, leaving us in relative silence. In the distance, the Collector cruiser rose into the sky, escaping into space.

* * *

Author's Notes:

First of all, I would like to thank all of you who have been offering feedback, you are the people who keep me writing, and hopefully keep me improving. So four for you reviewers! You go reviewers! In other news, some of you may have noticed my Star Trek story, Dimensionality, and some of might even have enjoyed it. This is my new official side project. Updates will be posted on Saturdays on weeks I finish my quota early. To summarize, it's an alternate universe style story in the vein of the mirror universe arc on the show, but for a Federation that formed on a world still under the rule of the British Empire.

Dracconnis, NonSolus: Had to be done, what with the release of a certain 4th entry in a well known scifi shooter series. This is why Alliance pilots take off their armour before attempting to fly.

-Liddle Out


	16. Chapter 16: Broken

Interloper 2: Chapter 16

The spaceport was still a mess when we returned; leaving the steaming weapon emplacement in the hands of a local militia unit that had shown up. The greasy brown trail left by the Collector's ascent still hung heavily in the sky, rising up until it passed the wispy grey clouds that had started to form. Miranda had the survivors of the Alliance team loading the corpse of a Collector into the Normandy's shuttle. The men shuffled about numbly, eyes still glazed.

"Reserve men, never seen action before," Kaidan informed us sadly. He was obviously holding something back, had been ever since the argument with Shepard. At the sight of a Cerberus officer ordering his men around, it finally came up. "Shepard…"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Shepard said, obviously not in the mood for round two. She had caught a particle beam fighting to dig Okeer out of the butcher's shop he's built himself and was favoring one leg heavily. Her usually copper coloured hair hung in limp reddish strands.

"I don't want to bring it up, but your Cerberus friends have been awful quick to respond to these 'Collector' attacks. There isn't… I mean there's no chance you're _involved_, is there?"

"Am I working for the Collectors?" Shepard stopped cold in her tracks and rounded on the biotic officer. The bottom fell out of my own stomach; I'd hoped that the argument before we had left for the weapon emplacement, but it was looking like we wouldn't be so lucky. "Am I colluding with an alien force striking at human colonies? Am I helping them abduct these people, _My people_, for what? How could you even ask that?"

"I don't know, Shepard, three years ago I would have said the same thing about you bailing on the Alliance, but here you are, flying Cerberus black and yellow. I know, I know," he said, raising his hands at Shepard's half formed retort, "you were dead, that's my point. Who knows what Cerberus stuck in your head while you were out? I don't remember you glowing orange while we were fighting Saren."

"It's me, Kaidan, a couple of blinking lights doesn't change that. They brought me back to fight the Collectors, to fight the Reapers. Listen, you might not want to believe me, but Sovereign wasn't the end of the Reaper threat. Look around yourself, the Alliance isn't doing anything to prepare for them, they can't; their hands are tied. The rest of the Council races still don't admit that _Sovereign_ was a Reaper. Only Cerberus is doing anything to put a stop to this, and as long as that is still true I'm going to keep working with them!"

"I hope you're right, Shepard. I hope it's still you. But I saw the things those Cerberus scientists were doing in their hidden labs. I just hope they haven't made you into one of their monsters." Kaidan said, defeated. Shepard stood her ground.

"This," she said, rolling over a Collector with a booted foot, "is the real monster. Hopefully one day you'll see that. Come on, Liddle, we're leaving." She turned and I gave Kaidan an apologetic glance before following. Shepard walked quickly across the ruined ground, forcing me to break into a jog to catch up.

"Commander? You okay?" I asked as I drew alongside. Shepard stopped and took a deep breath. She turned her head, revealing a distressed look that twisted the scars lining her face.

"I will be. I'm just worried."

"Worried?"

"Worried that he's right." Shepard whispered.

* * *

We picked our way towards the shuttle, joining the rest of the small strike team where they stood idle. The Alliance Reservists had left, leaving Miranda looking over the corpse of one of the Collectors.

"Commander," she said, greeting Shepard as we walked on board, "we've done well blunting the Collector attack here, and our friend here could provide valuable information on the nature of our enemy, but with the escape of the enemy cruiser I'm afraid we're no closer to finding their base of operations."

"You'll excuse me from not taking the long view, Operative Lawson, but I'm more concerned about the lack of communication from the Normandy." Shepard said, features growing hard. The mask had been redonned. Miranda turned her eyes to the sky. There was no sign of the frigate.

"Troubling, I'll admit. No doubt your Mr. Moreau has found something more interesting to do than stay on station." The Cerberus Operative said as she sealed the alien in malleable memory plastic.

"Joker wouldn't leave men on the ground, especially not in the grips of the enemy," Shepard said resolutely. I couldn't help but wince a little. Not that I was afraid that Joker had bugged out on us now. "Normandy, this is Shepard. Please respond. Normandy…"

"Normandy here, Commander," Joker's voice came in fuzzy and weak. The sound of klaxons blared tinnily in the background.

"Joker, what's the situation, why have you been out of contact?"

"Sorry, Commander, had a little trouble with a Collector AI System's clean now as far as I can tell, but we lost the Normandy's Centurion," he replied, referencing the ship's security VI. "We sustained a little internal damage but it's nothing the Normandy can't handle. We just saw the cruiser run away tail between its legs. Whatever you did, you kicked its ass!"

"Thanks for the assessment, Joker. Are we cleared to meet up with you?"

"Oh, sure, everything is under control up here. Rendezvous in geosync…" in the background the sounds of sparks and further detonations interrupted him. "Hey, get those systems locked down back there. If you let my ship fall out of the sky…"

"Your ship?" Shepard asked, allowing an eyebrow to rise.

"Sorry, Commander, slip of the tongue. Rendezvous in Low Planetary Orbit, and you probably want to hurry that along, I'm not sure how long I can hold this thing in the air." The channel closed.

"Alright everybody, pack your bags. Skids up in ten."

* * *

From the outside, the Normandy looked pristine, as if the battle down on the planet had left it completely untouched. The illusion was shattered as we pulled slowly in the cargo bay. The lights were gone, replaced by the strobing beams of the individual crew's torches as they moved about the bay.

"Commander, over here!" a member of the engineering crew waved Shepard over. Shepard handed out a few quick orders before walking over.

"Alright people, good work down there. Stand down and wait for further orders while I find out what the hell went on up here. Liddle, take Feron to the Med Bay so Chakwas can give him a good look over."

"Yes, Commander," I replied. I helped Feron wobbly to his feet, shaking a little myself as the adrenaline of the op wore off. Taking off my helmet I could smell the faint hint of smoke and burnt rubber. "Let's get you up to the Doc." We made our way over to the elevator, fumbling in the dark. A helpful crew member directed us to use the inter-level ladders; the elevators were out of commission. It was a struggle to get Feron up the rungs, one by one, but eventually we made it up out of the engineering deck and into the crew area. The lights were out here too, but someone had pulled out an array of work lights to flood the area with a stark light that created hard shadows behind every chair, table, and wall panel. Some of the wall panels looked as if they had been ripped from the walls, either hanging bent from their mounts or lying loose on the floor.

"It looks like someone released a gang of angry krogan up here," Feron mused, chuckling a little before clutching at his chest, "ah, that hurt." We rounded the corner and found the doors to the Med Lab already propped open. Doctor Chakwas raised her head as we walked in, and a frown creased her features. She took one look and the mud spattered armour and its various pits and dings before angrily reprimanding me.

"Michael Liddle, I warned you, I said one more injury and I'd have you restrained, orderly, I want this man sedated, whether he wants it or not."

I raised a hand and rushed to explain myself, "No, no, no, I'm fine! I'm just helping Feron up here."

"You honestly expect me to believe you went down on a ground mission and didn't manage to get yourself injured or otherwise damaged? And with all that pitting in your armour." Chakwas asked almost sarcastically. Before I could reply, a voice from deeper into the Med Lab interceded on my behalf.

"Doctor, I'm sure Mike's kept his promise, besides, all of those scratches are pretty old, he was showing them off to me just this morning." Liz called from a bed in the back of the room. Something dark stained her cheek and hair, and her arm was fixed tightly in a sling.

"Hmm, this time I'll have to believe you, but you're sitting the next mission out. Doctor's orders, no arguing," She said before I could complain. I nodded, resigned. "Good, now help me get Feron onto a cot, it looks like he has some fairly severe burns." I gladly helped Feron over to the cot, letting him down slowly and allowing the Med Lab crew to get to work while carefully not allowing them to see the parts of my armour where stray rounds and shrapnel had penetrated enough to draw blood. Instead I made my way over to where Liz sat. Despite the smudges and a sickly pallidness that hung on her like a wet blanket, she seemed in good spirits.

"Hey Lizzers, thanks for the rescue back there, I was worried that the Doc would have actually strapped me down."

"You're just lucky I'm such a good friend. So, you _did_ manage to get yourself hurt down there didn't you? And don't even try lying to me, I'll know." I squirmed uncomfortably under her unflinching gaze before buckling under the weight.

"Fine, yes, a few new scratches, I slapped some medi-gel on it though, I'll be fine. And it looks like I'm not the only one who managed to hurt themselves. What happened?"

"Got shot," Liz said, looking away.

"How'd you manage that, up here I mean?" I asked, looking around at the ad hoc lighting and dark computer terminals. "In fact, what the heck happened up here?"

"It all started after you went down to the planet," Liz began. "I was up on the bridge learning about how the galaxy map worked when suddenly the lights dimmed for a second. No one knew what was going on until this voice started yelling at us from all of the VI terminals. It was awful, said it was called Harbinger and that he was going to 'assume direct control of the Normandy's systems.' The VI tried to put up a fright but Harbinger just snuffed it out. Anyway, that was when the ship started locking out the controls. Comms, weapons, it was lucky Joker put us on autopilot and managed to isolate the propulsion systems, because that thing could have done just about anything with us."

"That still doesn't explain how you managed to get shot," I said.

"I was getting to that, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, locking Harbinger out got him pissed, he started pumping way too much juice through terminals to try and overload them, most of the damage was down in engineering. I haven't seen it myself, but I hear it's bad. I hope Daniels is okay."

"Daniels the engineer?"

"Yeah, you know Gabby? Doesn't matter, the thing was, Joker figured out what was going on. This Harbinger guy hitched a ride on the carrier signal we were using to talk to the ground team and infected the computer core. With a virus that powerful, the only way we could really get rid of it was to do a complete clean wipe of all of our integrated hardware. Of course without our software the parts aren't doing us much good. We've been bringing stuff back on line bit by bit."

"Still fuzzy on the whole you getting shot thing," I said, taking a seat on her cot and shrugging out of what armour I could afford to remove without exposing fresh wounds.

"Oh, that, yeah. We needed someone to crawl up into the computer core and run the whole clean out operation. Turns out Harbinger hopped aboard on of the LOKIs I was stripping down in there. Luckily I had already taken out its ocular sensors for another project, but it still managed to wing me just going off the audio."

"You seem pretty chipper for someone who just got shot," I said, more than a little worried. Liz seemed to wince at the end of every sentence, as if pulling each new breath tugged at something best left alone.

"Not like I can complain," she said, "I mean, you get shot all the time."

"Yeah, but I have a hardsuit and everything. Look, don't go getting yourself killed; I don't want to have to tell your dad I let you die." Liz laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Ow. Sorry. It's just you, 'Let you die.' It's not as if you're playing one of those vids. You can't just press all the right buttons and expect everything to come out okay. Yeah, I probably wouldn't have been in danger if my Dad hadn't sent me off with you, but, I don't know, I kind of like being here and making a difference, you know?" her words stung a little, and didn't ease the sense of responsibility I felt for her.

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I've lost friends, friends I felt responsible for. I don't think I could handle losing you. Your family's been good to me; I'd have to be some kind of monster to repay that by getting their only daughter killed."

"I get what you're saying, I really do, but you can't control everything, that's something my dad always said, and I think I'm starting to understand what he meant. Just, don't worry about me, I can look after myself," she raised the wrapped arm with a wince, "see, here I am, and you didn't even know I was in trouble."

"I can't make any promises," I said, ruffling her dingy hair, "but I guess I can live with the knowledge that you can take care of yourself in a pinch."

"Damn straight." The girl smiled warmly. Outside, the lights turned back on.

* * *

Author's Notes:

So there it is. The Collectors repulsed, the Normandy dead in the water, and the Kaidan/Shepard divide only deepening. I wasn't entirely sure how to deal with Kaidan really, because to be fair he's kind of justified, knowing what he knows. he was pretty quick to distrust Shep almost entirely, but I guess your CO dying and then coming back to life in the employ will do that to a guy. I hope my final choice works, especially since this isn't the end for him in this story. Once again thanks for reading and commenting, next update should be Thursday barring unforeseen haltages of work/Halo 4

-Liddle Out


	17. Chapter 17: Sour Dreams

Interloper 2 Chapter 17

Sections of the ship were still dark when I awoke from an uneasy sleep. The experience of the day mixed with the overabundance of adrenaline still roiling in my system to feed my nightmares. At first my dreams had been innocent, a day among the citrus trees with Liz. But that didn't last long. The blue skies turned a burnt orange as a familiar booming horn rose from the water of the ocean, followed by the purplish metal of a Reaper with my own face. The me-Reaper had blared its horn again and fired down on the grove, setting it alight. Liz had screamed. To my horror, blood began welling from a deep wound in her side. And then suddenly, she wasn't Liz at all. She was Jenkins, then Liara, and then she was Shepard. The Liz-Shepard looked at me with accusatory eyes before scattering as dust in the wind. I woke up sweating and shivering at the same time. The clock on my borrowed Omni-tool pegged the time about midway through the sixth watch, a few hours before the "morning" shift. I rolled myself out of bed and ambled towards the sonic showers despite the hour, I had no desire to go back to sleep. After dressing, I made my way out of the crew quarters quickly and quietly. The work lights on the crew deck had been mostly cleared away, replaced by the overheads in the sections where power surges had not damaged the fixtures. A few techs still flitted to and fro looking as tired as I felt, muttering amongst themselves as they put the ship back together again.

I wandered the deck, trading nods of greeting with the overworked crewmembers. I noticed a few of them numbered among the Broker's men. That made me smile. There was nothing like near annihilation to get people trusting and working with each other again. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the elevator doors opening behind me.

"Can't sleep?" I whirled, throwing up a sketchy salute. Commander Shepard returned it. "I know the feeling."

"Commander," I replied, "you look like hell. If you don't mind me saying… Ma'am."

"Can't argue with the truth," Shepard said with a wan and tired smile, "I've been on the bridge since we got back aboard. The Collectors really did a number on the old girl."

"Not that we didn't return the favor," I said with a dark chuckle. Shepard joined me with her own quiet laughter.

"I suppose you're right. Last time I checked, the Collectors were still moving under their own power though. On the bright side, they can't have gone far. The Illusive man's already put teams out searching for them."

"So that's our next objective?" I asked.

"Among other things. Once we find them, of course, we still need one of those bio-readers. With luck we can catch them before they disappear behind the Omega 4 relay. Until then though, we've got a fresh round of dossiers. That and Mordin wants help tracking down one of his wayward pupils. I also want to check in on Admiral Anderson. I'm hoping with a little leaning he might be willing to give us one of those wonder weapons."

"Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us. And some shiny new guns will keep Garrus happy." _And alive_ I added silently. The mental image of Thane, replaced in my mind's eye by Feron, speared by an I-beam flittered unbidden through my head. I shook it to clear away the images. Shepard must have misunderstood the gesture, because she laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"We'll get it done. It's a lot of work, but I've got faith in all of you, Garrus, Mordin, even Miranda's coming around. We'll get these guys, and then we'll give the Reapers a good kick in the teeth."

"Thanks, Commander. I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go pass out for a bit." The Commander stretched and yawned as if to underline her point. Stifling my own yawn, I bid her good night and returned to my seat at the table. Finding myself alone, I set about reinstalling the multilayered programs that made up Yellowjacket's mobile command center.

Xxx

The first watch of the new day brought the first ray of good news. A bulk freighter commissioned by one of Cerberus' many shell corporations had been dispatched to tow us back to Minuteman Station and was expected within the hour. I spent the intervening time visiting the Med Bay, helping out Liz in any way I could. It didn't take long for her to grow sick of me.

"Damn it, Mike, I've got this," she said in exasperation, snatching the deactivated shotgun out of my hands. Cradling the hexagonal weapon between clenched knees, she deftly slipped the ring of the synchronous pulsar into place with one hand before allowing another one of her gadgets, an orbiting drone, to solder the connections. "There, that should do it." She smiled and wiped at the dark smudge that still marked her cheek.

"So these are the upgrades we dumped all that platinum into?"

"Yeah, I've been so busy tearing apart the ship's mechs, I almost forgot that the Commander had asked me to fix up all of our shotguns. This new part should boost kinetic energy by almost ten percent."

"I might have to start carrying one again," I said, remembering my old Jormangund Savage. It had been almost painful to part with it, but the top of the line weapon had paid most of my way to Cook's Landing. Of course, it would be considered horribly out of date by now.

"A boy like you, ha." A rough and hostile voice sounded from the door of the Med Lab

"Mr. Massani, if you are here only to accost my patients…"

"Only? No, I just do it on the side. I need a canister of nano-blanks, my owns run dry after our little altercation yesterday." The hulking mercenary pointed to a spot of raw skin just above the bicep.

"You know you could just allow me to apply the medigel we already have on hand. There's no need to come in here week after week for the raw materials," the ship's doctor retorted.

"I've made a habit of not injecting anything into my body I didn't personally fabricate. Now, the blanks, if you please." Chakwas only shook her head and moved further into the room, muttering to herself about "paranoia" and "stubborn hero types." Apparently satisfied, Zaeed rounded on me.

"So, War Hero, I here you took on one of them Scions in hand to hand." The comment sparked a fierce trickle of pride, though it was short lived. "Shame you didn't think to hit it with something other than your rifle though. Pretty amateur mistake if you ask me." Before I could formulate a retort, Chakwas returned with a glass cylinder of pale grey goo.

"If you're quite finished," she said severely. The mercenary snatched up the jar and shook it as if looking for clumps. With his inspection apparently satisfactory, he tucked it under a meaty arm and left without further words. His dismissive manner awoke something angry that I didn't quite like. I wasn't just going to let him get away with it though. I followed him out of the bay before yelling to catch his attention.

"Hey, Zaeed, what's your problem then?"

"Yuh' what?" the man asked with a sneer.

"What's your issue with me? Ever since you came aboard, you've been nothing but a complete asshole to me. What did I do that's got you so damn mad? Or are you just a colossal jerk to everyone you meet?" the venting felt good Zaeed burst into uproarious laughter.

"You know, I normally wouldn't let you get away with that. But you know what, I you really need to know, I'll tell you. Every damn one of you on this ship barring Shepard are rank amateurs. This little team of hers is made up of a cop, a doctor, and you, some dumb kid from the colonies. You've got no training, no discipline. You're like to get yourself killed, or worse, someone else. Well I'll tell you what, that ain't going to be me." The words stung, but the merc wasn't finished yet. "Trust me kid, you're nothing special just because Shepard's taken a shine to you. I ran the ol' Blue Suns back in the day. That was training, that was discipline." His face twisted in the cruel mockery of a smile. His rant over, I seized a chance to get some words in.

"Why don't you train me then!" I burst out before really realizing what I was saying. The outburst didn't phase Zaeed though.

"Train you? Ha, that's a joke. You wouldn't last two sessions with me. Not that the Commander would let me teach you proper like."

"I can take it," I said, less assured, but there was no day I was backing down once the challenge had been thrown.

"Can you?" the man said in mock surprise, "well why didn't you just say so. You know what, I'll take that bet. Why don't you mosey on down to the Starboard side cargo at 1400 hours tomorrow? I'll show you what real training is like."

Xxx

I spent the rest of the day trying not to step on any toes. With the Yellowjacket programing reinstalled and the Normandy's security VI out of commission, I seized the chance to catch up. The inbox was stuffed with innocuous reports, requests for funds, and a few automatic updates. I started off by shuffling a few credits around. My accounts were far from rich, but some careful trading had allowed for a substantial war chest. Next came the reports, a few informants passing along dirt on their bosses, nothing of particular interest. The most striking of them was a report from a construction worker assigned to Illium's Dantius Towers. The towers had come under attack recently, leaving Nassana Dantius and almost half of her workers dead. Nassana had always been a schemer, going so far as to trick Shepard into killing of a politically embarrassing relative. Her death was no great loss for the galaxy. It also proved that Thane Krios was still moving about Citadel space. I filed away the mystery of why Cerberus had not contracted him for another day and moved on to the automatic updates. Quiet inquiries into the Xul system had failed to produce results, as had a commission to investigate Illos. What was truly interesting about that mission was that the ship I had contacted was turned away by Alliance military. I closed up the program with a few quick messages and switched off my Omni-tool.

Second watch found me back in the armoury with a patcher, carefully going over the scars of the day before. Although most of the scratches wouldn't harm the hardsuit's function, I still enjoyed the chance to settle into the repetitive routine of patching over the rough spots. It gave me time to think. Today my thoughts rested on the Collectors and their ship. In Mass effect, the cruiser mission had resulted in an ambush which almost led to the entire team's capture. With all the trouble the ship had given us over Horizon, it was impossible to tell whether the events would repeat themselves. Hopefully Shepard wouldn't be so cavalier about hooking the ship up to the alien's computer, but it was entirely possible that a new security system would blind them to the dangers.

"Nice armour." The voice of Warmaster Okeer rumbled. I looked up to see the aged krogan enter carrying the shiny red carapace of his ancestral armour. He had put his oily green suit back on now that he had returned to the ship, a suit that only underlined the finery of his red set. He placed it on one of the tables and began working it over with a tool from his own set. It was chunkier, obviously of krogan make, and whirred noisily as he worked. "That was a fight down there. You know, you fight well, for a human."

"Um, thanks," I replied, not sure whether to take it as a compliment. None the less, it was better than Zaeed's cynicism, so I decided to take it. "You're not bad yourself." The old warlord guffawed.

"Centuries of practice. Perhaps after five hundred years you will be as good as me, eh? Perhaps not though, I hear your kind doesn't last that long." I ran a hand through my hair.

"Perhaps not." Truthfully, I wasn't sure I'd last even as long as the other humans aboard. Without the medical augments that people took for granted, I was probably fated to last a good decade less than all the rest, if the Reapers didn't get us first. "You know, I've been wondering…"

"Yes."

"Back on Korlus, the Blue Suns were taking orders from loon called Jedore. What happened to her?" I asked.

* * *

NonSolus: Everything. Getting rid of Collector borne viruses is tough when you don't have an unshackled AI on hand. And EDI is doing just fine, though maybe not in the way you suspect...

-Liddle Out


	18. Chapter 18: Minuteman Station

Interloper 2 Chapter 18

Minuteman Station hung suspended in space like a bejeweled diadem, its long arc stretching beyond the edges of the Normandy's forward viewports. The Normandy slowly approached the softly glowing station as the bulk freighter's long tow line snapped away, leaving the frigate adrift. We weren't left powerless for long though, as the hastily patched engines fired up. The blue fire of the Normandy's wingtip thrusters pushed us gently towards the waiting arms of the Cerberus outpost. We slowed as we grew near until finally the vibration of the magnetic clamps rang through the hull.

"Another happy landing," Joker quipped, patting the side of his console, "you're going to make sure they fix her up quick, right Commander? You know I hate seeing my baby go dark."

"I'm sure the techs will work hard to get the Normandy back in fighting form as quickly as possible. We do have a cruiser to catch," Shepard replied, slapping the back of his chair, "Yeoman Chambers, please prepare my reports for the Illusive Man, everyone else, you've done amazing things getting us even this far. Take this time to relax, get what R and R you can, and let the techs get to work." A tired cheer ran through the crew smattered with applause from the engineers. Shepard turned to me and her smile flickered. "Liddle, I want you to round up an escort for our… _friend_."

"Yes, Commander." I nodded and moved to grab the nearest security officers. Operative Wilson had remained held below decks, tucked away in the space between the engine room corridors during the entire Horizon altercation. At the request of the Illusive Man, he was going to be turned over to the Minuteman Cell for questioning.

"Linkes, Garibaldi, we're on escort duty," I said as I passed the two black armoured security agents. They fell in behind me, heels clicking on steel. The short trip to the lower decks was overshadowed by the increasing doubt I felt about turning the man in. On the one hand, he had endangered the ship and the crew, selling us out to the Shadow Broker. The fact that I should have seen it coming, even warned someone didn't 'soften the blow of what might have happened had he succeeded. On the other hand, his stay on Minuteman Station was almost guaranteed to be extremely unpleasant. No matter how used I had become to fighting the Geth, and even other humans, I wasn't ready to just start handing people over to their torturers.

"So, come to turn me in? Here to spit on the evil traitor?" a voice rasped from the deep shadows that still dominated the lower decks. I looked up. Wilson sat back to the wall and shrouded in inky blackness, only the wisps of an increasingly ragged beard poking into the thin slat of light that shone through the deck plates above.

"You brought this on yourself, Wilson. None of the other former agents of the Broker tried to destroy the ship, just you."

"Didn't stop you from imprisoning them though, did it?" Wilson chuckled darkly as his face split into a pointed grin. "So much for the heroic Commander Shepard. You're all the same." The face retreated out of the light.

"Shepard's not working for the Shadow Broker," I said tersely, "Shepard doesn't have people killed because they stand in her way." The words sounded insincere, even from my own mouth.

"Doesn't she? Who do you think you're working for? Do you really think Cerberus is any better than the Broker? At least my employer still has real power. Cerberus' star is falling, the Phantom Fleet has seen to that."

"Enough!" I yelled, "Get him up, and keep him quiet." Linkes grabbed the disgraced doctor roughly under the arm, hauling him to his feet. Wilson could only laugh as we half led, half dragged him towards the airlock.

* * *

Shepard found me aboard the station, sitting alone at a table that overlooked the Normandy's gangway. She sat heavily beside me and watched the almost endless parade of techs that clambered on and off the Normandy.

"You're looking pretty rough," she said at long last, "care to talk about it?" I looked up from the Devlon Stinger I was fiddling with.

"It's nothing," I lied, "just tired.

"Really?" Shepard asked incredulously, "you don't look like a man who's tired. You look like you're struggling with something; it's a face I've seen in the mirror far too much of late. So what's up?"

"It's the whole, Cerberus situation, Commander. I mean, they're the same old organization I already escaped once. Shepard, some of the things they've done, things they might still do…"

"Not you too," her voice was leaden.

"Don't get me wrong, Shepard, I'm behind you one hundred percent. I've got your back whether you run with the Alliance or the Batarian pirates. But I don't know if I like working for Cerberus. It gives me…" I gestured in the air, trying to articulate exactly what I meant, "…feelings."

"Well I don't see myself working with the Batarians any time soon, but it's good to know I have your support. I have to admit, I've got my own… feelings about Cerberus. It's just something we're going to have to live with in order to defeat the Reapers."

"I guess you're right," I relented, shaking my head. "As bad as Cerberus might get, they can't hold a candle to the Reapers." I flicked on the chronometer on my Omni-tool. "1340 hours, I have something I have to do. Thanks, Commander, I needed that."

"Any time, Deputy."

* * *

I descended the elevator to the Engineering deck alone, having run the length of the ship to quickly dress in a set of standard issue Cerberus overalls, minus the insignia. The doors opened onto a now lit deck. I immediately turned right, passing the still empty window onto the cargo deck. The door to the starboard cargo area had been left open, the lights left off. The situation screamed ambush. I approached carefully.

"Zaeed?" the boot came faster than I could react, catching me low in the stomach. I rolled to avoid a second strike, but a third kick followed too quickly after aimed at my ribs. I tucked my arm in to shield my wounded side, letting the hit instead fall just below the shoulder. The attacks stopped giving me enough time to rise hastily to my feet. Zaeed stood in the doorway in a simple faded grey t shirt and a pair of loose fitting trousers. His feet were wrapped in hard black leather boots.

"A little slow to react, but decent instincts. Maybe I can work with this," he said matter-of-factly, as if describing a car he was interested in purchasing. "Let's see if you can dance." The attack was near blinding fast again, but I was waiting for it. I still only managed to dodge by inches, falling back into a defensive stance. The 'lesson' continued for almost a half hour, a series of blows and strikes seemingly without end or mercy. While the majority of blows connected, by the end I had managed to work out a pattern that kept most of my important parts protected. The activity left me exhausted, leaning heavily against the bulkhead and panting. Zaeed stood motionless in the center of the room, breath still calm as ever. "Not much of a dancer then, looks like someone tried to teach you something at some point though." I wiped a thin trail of blood from a split lip away with the back of my hand.

"So are we going to train or what?" I said, aiming for defiant. It came out closer to winded.

"What do you think this is? A tea party? You don't like my methods you can leave. I didn't offer to train you out of the goodness of my heart, or because we're going to be friends. This is how we did it in the Blue Suns, that's how we'll do it here."

"Is that why they kicked you out?" I shot back. Zaeed's face turned ugly.

"You shouldn'ta said that." He rounded on me in a fighting stance. "You stay standing; maybe I'll forget that little misstep. The fight was short and brutal. Zaeed came on hard, driving elbows and knees. Already winded, I fell back and tucked in my arms, fending off what blows I could and twisting away from the rest. With a ragged breath, Zaeed drove in with a vicious right punch. I saw my opening. Before the burly merc knew what was happening, I had grasped the outside of his arm with both hands and turned to stand beside him. The technique taking over I threw a fist under his arm and cracked him on the jaw. As he twisted to escape I put all of my weight into the grip, flipping him on his back. He lay there, looking up with malice. I backed off, allowing him back to his feet. I thought he was going to come in again, but instead he laughed. It was a harsh and ugly sound. "Ha, you got balls, War Hero. You come back tomorrow; maybe I can teach you a thing or two. Who knows, maybe I can even take the kiddie gloves off." And with that he dismissed me. I limped away wheezing, but inside it felt a triumph. A shower was in order, however, and with the Normandy's plumping out for repairs, I returned to the station.

* * *

"What happened to you, you pick a fight with a yahg?" Garrus asked, pointing to several fresh bruises that had sprouted across my arms and neck.

"Feels kind of like it," I said, stretching painfully. "But no, just a little sparring practice."

"Well, I didn't know you'd taken to sparring with the Mako. So, you heard the news? The grapevine says they're plugging an AI into the Normandy. An AI… you don't look surprised."

"Hmmm, oh, weird. I guess it was inevitable, right? Those Collectors really did a number on our computer systems. An AI can react faster, implement creative solutions, actually think… or so I'm told."

"That's quite the sale's pitch. You're probably right though, I don't know, I'm still getting a bad feeling about it."

"I sure it'll turn out fine. I… is that the AI there?" I stopped and peered over at the still visible gangplank, where a pair of nervous looking techs were pulling a large plastic crate the size and shape of a large refrigerator. A trio of letters were stenciled on the side of the crate in stark black paint.

**E.V.A.**

"I take it back."

"What?" Garrus asked, puzzled at my sudden change of tack. "A second ago you were singing this thing's praises."

"I need to take a closer look at this thing."

* * *

The Normandy computer core was crowded by Minuteman techs and Normandy crewmen. The crate containing EVA had been unpacked, the powerful computers and memory banks plugged in. All that was left to do was flip the switch. The core flickered to life.

"Hello? EVA?" one of the techs addressed the computer terminal, clearly uncomfortable around the thinking machine. The core rumbled for a second as if shaking itself awake.

_Hello, Operative Kurtz. How are you today?_ The voice, although clearly robotic, was much warmer than the voice I remembered EDI having, almost human in its inflection. The holo-emitter attached to the core lit up and projected the figure of a woman about a foot tall, with thick hair that curled under her ears to points that hung beside her chin. EVA scrutinized the room with her holographic eyes. _I can work with this._

* * *

_ Dracconnis: For reasons that will unfold over the next few chapters, EDI was not installed on the Normandy during her original construction, leaving the ship defended by a simple VI.  
_


	19. Chapter 19: Negotiations

Interloper 2 Chapter 19

The Normandy thundered through the empty space between the stars, rapidly eating up the distance that separated the ship from the purplish Serpent Nebula. On an empty deck, I tried desperately to avoid the ever watchful eye of the newly installed artificial intelligence. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out.

_Deputy Liddle, are you aware your Omni-tool hosts an illegal intelligence tool?_ The computer asked in a tone that approached sarcasm. I quickly flicked of the wireless settings of the device and rounded on the now lit wall terminal. Above it floated the stern faced avatar of the Normandy's new AI core.

"EVA, are you aware that _you_ are an illegal intelligence tool?" the retort was childish, but after the long cruise to the center of Citadel space I was about ready to start resorting to name calling and sticking my fingers in my ears. The Illusive man's pet virtual construct had insisted on having access to the entire ship, all in the name of security of course. Even Cerberus hardliners like Miranda were starting to get on edge. The constant watching was bad enough, but worst of all were the attempted invasions of everything with a wireless connection.

_Commander Shepard requests your presence on the bridge._ The AI said after a brief pause before flickering away, gone to terrorize some other crew member. I shook my head angrily and began to make my way back towards the command deck. In the days after receiving the dubious "upgrade" to our cyber warfare suite I had been feverishly trying to find any reference to the Enhanced Defense Intelligence in what little of the Cerberus database I had been able to skim off of the Normandy's temporarily unprotected network but I had found nothing but expunged logs and fragmented test data. From what little I could tell, EDI had existed even in this reality, but now she was nowhere to be found.

The doors to the deck opened with a snap. Even the elevator had been more forceful since the trip to Minuteman Station.

"Commander, you wanted me?" I asked, walking up to stand beside Shepard as she stood over the galaxy map. From the look of the markers, she was already planning our next move. The map was marked at the Citadel, as well as the planets Illium, Neith, and Lattesh, from the look of the spindly red lines that crisscrossed the starmap, Shepard was going to take us in a wide loop, stopping first at the empty salt clouded ball of Neith.

"Yes," Shepard said with an exasperated air. "We'll be docking with the Citadel soon. Since I have some business to attend to with Garrus, I was hoping you'd meet with Anderson and Udina, try to wrangle the tech we saw down on Horizon out of them." The request took me by surprise.

"Commander, I'm… I'm not sure I'm the right person. They barely listen to you, how am I possible going to get them to listen to me?"

"Easy, leave them with no choice," the Commander said, bringing up an image of the Collector that currently resided on a slab in the medlab. Beside it lay an image of the collector's particle weapon. "The results of Mordin's deep scans and working samples of their technology will be invaluable to Alliance R and D. A trade should shake loose a few state secrets, don't you think?"

"The Illusive Man probably won't be too happy about that," I said cautiously, keeping an eye on EVA's holo-terminal, "he likes to keep a tight rein on his tech."

"The Illusive Man can boil his head for all I care, and besides, it's hardly _his _technology to hoard. Here, the data's all stored on this flash pad," she handed me a flat, greyish, and flexible rectangle, about a centimeter in thickness and twenty centimeters squared.

_Your sentiments regarding the methods of the Illusive Man have been logged and will be sent with the next regularly scheduled report, _the voice of EVA rudely interrupted, _Also, in my interpretation of Cerberus standard operating procedure, this transaction will not be authorized by…_ the voice cut off abruptly.

"I'm sorry, but the Illusive Man isn't here, and you come equipped with a handy mute button. Now, where was I?" Shepard visibly relaxed as the ship's AI remained silent.

"Something about the flash pad," I said, twirling the device between my fingers.

"Ah, yes. Just hook that up to your Omni-tool for easy data transfer. Anderson will know what to do. Good luck on your mission, Michael. Don't disappoint me."

* * *

The familiar sights and sounds of the heart of Citadel space rushed up to meet me as my boots hit shining deck. Ahead of me, Garrus and Shepard were already departing, apparently loaded for bear. _Or turian,_ I noted darkly, remembering Garrus' tales of the traitor, Sidonis. _God speed, my friend._ Garrus was a tough and dedicated fighter, but if half the things he had confided in me about the actions of his fallen teammate were true, even I found it hard to feel sorry for what was coming to him. After I watched the two of them walk out of view, I went my own way, strolling through Zakara Ward unarmoured and unarmed, discounting my newly expanded Omni-tool. The Commander had convinced me showing up to a high level meeting fully armed would be inadvisable. I tactfully declined to point out the hypocrisy and abandoned my armaments in the Normandy's armoury. I spent some time among the stalls and shops; my appointment was not for some hours.

At the scheduled time, I made my way towards the Presidium ring, hopping aboard an open aircar. Soon, I was standing in front of the Alliance embassy. It was busier than I remembered it ever being, and from the scraps of conversation I was able to glean from the people standing about, it wasn't hard to imagine why. The Collectors had hit another colony, with a different ship from the sounds of things. Apparently the attacks were escalating. Some doctored credentials got me past the long line, all the way up until I entered the office of the ambassador. One man sat alone at a desk, his back facing me.

"Shepard, I was wonder…" the voice of Admiral David Anderson was soon followed by his face, which fell slightly as he saw me.

"Sorry, Admiral, just me today." I said apologetically. The older man gave a stiff nod and rose to meet me.

"I suppose she must have a good reason for delegating her meet-work. What can I do for you today, Mr. Liddle?" his voice was tired, but his handshake was a strong as ever. It was a grip that held a threat.

"Well, Admiral, to be honest I was sent to get some specs on that wonder weapon the Alliance was testing out on Horizon. I'm sure you've already seen a report on what it did to the Collector ship that put down there." I led with a brutal honestly with the hope that a career military man would appreciate it, although I knew it was a risk. Anderson's features darkened slightly.

"Shepard should know better than to go asking for a thing like that. She knows that kind of stuff is classified, I'd have trouble getting it to her even if she was still with the Alliance." The man returned to his desk. I followed, slipping into a chair across from him. "So, what's the Commander got that makes her think that'll I just hand one of our secret weapon projects over to Cerberus?"

"Well," I said, switching on my Omni-tool and placing my hand on the desk, palm upwards. "She thought you might want to take a look at these." I displayed the corpsified Collector and its particle weapon. "All of our scans of one of the Collector creatures, plus a working model of their weapons tech." the Admiral leaned in closer.

"Oh, so it's blackmail, is it?" he said, in a voice that wasn't completely unfriendly. "Or maybe you prefer bribery?"

"The Commander prefers 'trading,'" I said, "Look, I know you don't trust me, but Shepard's the one who sent me here, and she needs your help. This new gun could spell the difference between her completing her mission and a repeat of the _Normandy 1_ attack." The admiral leaned back into his chair, apparently deep in thought. After a while, I was afraid he would never answer me, but the man stirred.

"Alright," he said cautiously, flipping a switch under his desk. "You're absolutely sure this system stays with the Normandy? I'm not going to see any Cerberus cruisers dropping out of FTL brandishing our own tech?"

"It'll stay with us," I lied, "Count on it." Anderson seemed placated for now. He nodded to himself and stared out of the window. After a time, he looked back and tapped out a pattern on his desk. Embedded holographic projectors flashed on and began displaying schematics for a two barreled cannon.

"Alright then, if Shepard thinks she really needs this, she'll get it. Now, you'll have to build it yourself, I can't risk assigning Alliance engineers to this."

"And what is this?" I asked, motioning to the weapon.

"You remember the weapon Sovereign used on Illos, I assume. Well the Alliance was able to secure almost exclusive access to its remains, part of the reparations for losing so many ships in the name of galactic security. I'm sure the salarians made off with whatever they could get their hands on, but we kept the majority of its guns." The Admiral stood and started to pace the office. As he walked I initiated the data transfer. "It used an advanced mass accelerator to fire a stream of liquid metal; the techs call it a 'hydrodynamic' weapon. The Pheonix Cannon is our best reproduction. The prototype down on horizon was our first combat firing, and we've been working to improve it since then, mostly focusing on the heat dissipation. The version I'm giving you is the smallest shipbourne variant, the _Normandy _should have no trouble mounting it."

The desk terminal bleeped, indicating a full transfer. "Thank you, Admiral. You may have just saved the mission."

"God I hope so," the older man said gruffly, "if I have to read one more report from a disappeared colony…

* * *

I left the embassy with the plans to the prototype "Phoenix" cannon secure in the flash pad. I checked in briefly with the _Normandy _to report a successful mission. Miranda had the watch, and after a failed attempt to strike up a conversation, I signed off. With no pressing need to return to the ship, I found a place to eat across from the Presidium.

"Enjoying your soup, Mr. Liddle?" a quiet voice whispered from somewhere behind my ear, masked by some form of scrambler. My first instinct was to whirl on the speaker, but something hard was shoved roughly against my back. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"What do you want?" I asked tersely. My heart began to beat against my ribcage, as whatever it was that was being held against my back was driven in deeper. "Are you with the Shadow Broker?" I fought to keep my words calm and steady.

"The Broker? No. A Broker's man would have shot you from all the way over there." My new friend tilted my jaw up to point my head at an apartment block that leaned out of the ring's wall. "Or maybe there." They indicated a small stand of trees. "No, my employer finds you much more… agreeable. Your ship has had problems with Broker sleeper agents, has it not?"

"How do you…" I said before I caught myself. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Cute," the voice chuckled. The sound came out as an unpleasant warble, "Let's play it your way. If, for some reason, you happen to run into some trouble with one of the Broker's agents, it would be useful to have a copy of his top secret trigger phrases, wouldn't you think."

"And you want to sell me some of these… triggers? How am I supposed to know they're genuine?" I replied, trying to shift to the side without the other knowing. When they didn't react, I moved again.

"Trust me; you couldn't afford the price we paid for these codes. Fortunately for you, someone out there's willing to give you a second chance," something heavy slipped down into the back pocket of my fatigues, coming to rest against the seat. "Of course you're welcome to test them out, or throw them away, it's entirely up to you." I shifted just a little further to the side. I spun fast, moving away from the object and grasping it in one hand, jerking it up and away from my body. I found myself facing a shimmer in the air, and then, nothing but the artificial breeze. Whoever had just held me hostage was gone. I looked down at my hand, revealing nothing but the rounded end of a dinner fork. Flushing bright red I tossed it down at the table and let out a long, shuddering breath. It was a long time before my heart found its usual rhythm again.

* * *

NonSolus: Perhaps "warm" wasn't the right term. More human and less robot voice filter perhaps, if you compare EVA's ME3 appearance to early ME2 EDI. Either way, I hope that EXPLAINs it sufficiently.


	20. Chapter 20: Anomaly Detected

Interloper 2: Chapter 20

"And you're sure this thing is genuine?" Shepard asked as the crew gathered once again around the magic meeting room table. Shepard had gathered her inner circle to the room on my return from the Citadel with the supposed trigger phrases for the Shadow Broker's agents. "For all we know this could be a Broker trick to get us to lower our guard."

"I figured that if they did work for the Shadow Broker, they probably would have taken me out from afar. That or snatched me, you said yourself that they were looking for leverage." I parroted the words the mysterious stranger had said to me.

"Either way, we can't afford to ignore the possibility that these codes could serve as a detector for any more of the Broker's agents. I suggest we send them back to Minuteman Station for testing. They'll get to the bottom of any… legitimacy issues," the raven haired Cerberus officer said, tapping something into a datapad.

"I agree," Shepard said, "you'll see to that?" On Miranda's curt nod she turned to the rest of us. "This is a good step in the right direction. While these codes are being tested, we may as well begin a briefing on our next objective." She brought up the image of a white world, its ivory surface pockmarked with greyish whorls and dark black lines. "This is Neith. Pretty unexciting in and of itself, there's a handful of minor salt mining operations operating around the equatorial belt, but it's otherwise unpopulated."

"So what's the deal here, Shepard? Have the Collectors starting stealing our salt now as well?" Garrus asked from his seat. Shepard gave him a severe look.

"I was just getting to that Garrus," she said, "the reason we're taking a look is because we've picked up a strange distress call in the area. There's a freighter down in the upper hemisphere, the _MSV Corsica_. Normally we'd let the locals pick this one up, but EVA has found traces of what might be A.I. tampering."

_That is correct. The distress signal shows many of the marks left by an artificially intelligent hacking program. I personally suspect Geth involvement._ The image of the cold planet rotated until a spot on the Northern half lit up alongside blueprints for one of the ubiquitous long range cargo haulers, this one marked with the glowing letters declaring it "_MSV Corsica_" as Shepard had announced. The audio of the distress call played, but it was indecipherable, just a random hiss of static.

"We'll be going in light, just a quick scan and grab, I don't want us getting stuck in if it turns out there are Geth on the planet. We'll call it in to Fifth Fleet and bug out if it ends up going hot," Shepard lectured from her place at the head of the table. I'll take Miranda, Garrus, and Zaeed down with me, the rest of you will have the fun job of doing a little prospecting."

"Commander," I interjected, "permission to join the mission."

"Permission denied, Deputy. You're on mandatory medical leave. No wriggling out of it this time I'm afraid." Shepard replied coolly. I leaned back into my chair sullenly, but said no more. "Now, if there aren't any further questions, I will be in my cabin. Miranda, be sure to begin further interviews with the Broker crew if those codes turn out to be good."

* * *

With the return if the Broker's codes three hours later with the Illusive Man's stamp of approval. While the exact method of his testing had not been returned with the codes, the talk of the lower decks was that Wilson had been subjected to all of them in sequence, his reactions catalogued and analyzed. However the information had been extracted, it was put immediately to good use. As Shepard had ordered, Miranda began a new round of interrogations, taking each member of the former Broker crew in turn into the briefing room. As the line outside slowly dwindled with no one showing any sign of reacting, even the security officers assigned to the process were growing complacent.

"Any progress?" It was Garrus. The turian had removed his old C-Sec blues in favour of a charcoal grey undersuit with golden piping on the shoulders. Affixed to his chest was a small pair of silver wings, likely an insignia from his days as Archangel. His face was drawn and tired.

"Nothing so far," I replied, "You get the guy?" Garrus' mandibles fluttered in discomfort.

"I had him in my sights, dead on. I coulda' had him, one shot, clean and clear," the turian turned away from the briefing room. "Of course that didn't sit well with Shepard. She stopped me, got in the way, made me back down."

"You want to talk about it?" I asked, following him through the armoury. Garrus' expression was hard to read, but his voice told a tale of one part frustration, two parts resignation.

"Nah, she has every right. There's no room on this mission for our personal vendettas. Doesn't stop it from digging at me though, Sidonis betrayed my team, betrayed me! And being sorry doesn't absolve him of his crimes. But neither would shooting him, I guess. I'll just have to let C-Sec take care of him. And what about you? I heard you had an adventure of your own down on the Citadel."

"I wouldn't call it an adventure so much as an inverse mugging, but yeah, it certainly wasn't boring. And we got the Tha-oenix cannons too."

"True, I know I'll certainly feel safer once those things are installed. Of course they'll probably need a good round of calibrations." His mandibles fluttered in amusement. I chuckled alongside him.

"I guess we're lucky you're still with us then."

"Yeah, I guess you are." The ship shuddered with the telltale sign of a relay transition. "We'll be arriving soon, I better get ready." I waved my friend off to his locker on the armoury wall and continued back into the CIC. The greyish ball of our current target still hung shining above the galaxy map projector.

_Deputy Liddle, are you familiar with the operation of the mineral scanner?_ The AI asked with an almost undetectable tone of smugness.

* * *

"Dropping probe," I droned as I punched the release icon. The ship barely shook as another automated mining probe dropped from its belly and arced towards the lonely, salty planet. It plummeted into the chilly atmosphere, dragging a fragile tail of smoke that curled from its ablating heat shield.

_That will be another 30 tonnes of platinum from that probe, much more once a Cerberus front organization stakes this mining claim. _EVA cheerfully informed me as the _Normandy_ began to receive further telemetry.

"Thank you EVA, that's really interesting," I mouthed, making sure to face away from the known surveillance cameras. I jotted down the value on a spare pad. The plans for the hydrodynamic weapon lay open on another pad, the needed materials for fabrication slowly being marked present. After pulling into orbit of Neith and dropping the small shuttle, there had been very little to do other than mine the barren rock for the scraps of platinum readily available from surface scrapings. Important to the continued success of the mission, but hardly a prestigious task. I stifled a yawn and began tracking the mineral scanner over the holo representation of the planet below. It was an even less interesting task in person.

"Professor Solus to the Deputy Liddle," the small comm bead on my lapel chirped. The scientist salarian had been locked in the lab with the Collector corpses for the better part of the day. Even with the non-descript hail, I was fairly certain I knew what he had just found.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" I asked nonchalantly. Mordin was quick to reply.

"Major breakthrough in Collector gene sequencing. Would report to Commander Shepard, or Operative Lawson, but neither is available. Your position as Deputy to Spectre puts you next in line of command. However, ship hierarchy not important, please make all speed to the science lab," the verbose alien unloaded in one breath. After taking a second to process the entire request, I dismissed the mineral scanner interface. Anything to get out of the onerous task of mining.

"On my way, Mordin."

Stepping down from the extended bridge, I made for the lab. The doors slid open to reveal the salarian bent close over his notes, which even now he added to at a feverish pace. He didn't appear to notice me walk in. On the table lay the Collector, smaller now that it's organic carapace armour had been peeled back. It would have been rather sad looking had its wide yellow eyes not retained their pallid glow, still so full of malice, even dead. The screen that hung above it was filled with scrolling letters. "You called?" I said. The professor looked up from his notes.

"Yes, as I said, major breakthrough, should shed light on origins of Collectors, also, may point to Reaper objectives in mass colony abductions, outlook dark," Mordin motioned with a two fingered hand, beckoning me closer, "here, look at these readouts, comparative gene sequencing for Collector specimen _and_ samples taken from human expedition to planet Ilos, note marked similarities. These markers leave no question." He stopped, as if expecting an answer. Luckily, I had known the answer for longer than he had.

"The Protheans… became the Collectors?"

"Yes, very astute, markers show signs of deep genetic alteration and deliberate engineering, also on macroscopic scale, cybernetic enhancements and replacement, almost unrecognizable, but the genetics speak for themselves…" his face contorted in a look that closely resembled human disgust. "it's… distasteful, a perversion of science."

"So what does this mean for us?" I asked, looking down at the exposed corpse, "they going to turn us into these things?"

"Perhaps, evidence of 'husks' suggests similar procedures of techno-replacement and enhancement. Numbers do not quite add up though, also, Collectors still in employ of the Reapers, human slaves seem redundant, another mystery to unlock."

_Deputy Liddle, we are receiving a transmission from the planet, patching it through._ The AI chirped from a nearby terminal before its voice was replaced by Shepard's.

"Liddle, you up there?" the Commander spoke wearily.

"Yes, just talking to Dr. Solus. You run into some trouble down on the planet? You've been out of touch for a while."

"No trouble, just some strange mech behavior. We're bringing up one of the units on the shuttle; please bring Ms. Romano down to meet us at the shuttle bay."

"Will do, Commander." I replied and cut the feed.

* * *

The shuttle glided gracefully to its rest on the cargo bay floor. All evidence of the shootout with the rampaging YMIR had since been erased by Cerberus maintenance teams, though the cots that had held the former Broker agents still stood in a messy circle, surrounded by the detritus of more than a few ration packets. Beside me Liz stood, looking more or less pleased with herself.

"So this mech they're bringing up, what's wrong with it?" she asked absent mindedly.

"They didn't say, only that it was… acting strange." I replied. The shuttle hatch popped open, revealing the standard off-white armour and rounded head of a LOKI model automaton. The mech stood stock still, as if a statue. With a grunt, the person behind it gave it a shove, pushing it forward on what looked like a moving palette.

"…thing's heavy." The voice of Garrus drifted across the bay.

"What's the matter Garrus, getting soft in your old age?" Shepard's voice joined it. Liz and I moved in to get a better look. We stopped just short of the mech; it was still active, emitting a low hum. "Liddle, Romano," Shepard nodded to each of us in turn, "meet unit… 11B-02. He and 1 79 of his closest friends were waiting for us in the wreckage of that freighter."

"They attacked you?" I asked, looking for signs of weapon damage on the buzzing mech.

"I didn't say that," the Commander rapped on the thing with her gauntleted fist, "they were standing there, just like this, making that noise. The crew was nowhere to be found, but what records could be dug up showed that all of the life rafts were launched about a week ago, so it sounds like they made it out alive."

"What brought the ship down then?" Liz asked.

"The log mentioned a haywire VI," Garrus added, "But that's not the strangest thing."

"What is the strangest thing?" I asked, leaning in.

"The mechs were waiting for us, just standing in formation out in the open, but they weren't in any recognizable rank or file, it took us looing down from the air on the way up to see the pattern."

"The way they were standing, they spelled out 'Normandy.'" Shepard finished.

* * *

Author's Note:

First off, i want to apologize for the lapse in schedule, family reunions tend to take a toll on writing time. Second, I just want to comment on how much fun writing lines for Mordin is. I get to indulge in my comma addiction _and_ get some exposition in all at the same time. That is all really.

general-joseph-dickson: Too true. AI designed from the ground up to be loyal have a tendency not to appreciate it when you start to question the boss' orders.

NonSolus: That's the plan, humanity needs some kind of leg up now that they've been denied a chance to join the Council.


	21. Chapter 21: Back in the Saddle

Interloper 2: Chapter 21

"They… _spelled_ it?" Liz's voice carried all the surprise and incomprehension I felt. "How?"

"Just like it sounds. Standing in lines, marking out big, capital letters, must be about eighteen feet tall," Garrus filled in, "whatever was making them do it had to get a little creative with the spelling, one hundred and eighty mechs only stretch so far." He released the dolly that held the buzzing robot. The white plated mech dropped slowly to the ground as its mass effect fields slowly died.

"Sounds like someone's trying to get our attention." I mused, wondering who could have sent the message. The whole situation gave me a bad feeling.

"Sounds like a trap," Shepard said, "the word wasn't the only thing left on the planet, we also pulled up the freighter's black box, and a shipment of prototype reflective armour plating, two crates. An enticing lure, wouldn't you think?"

"So you know where the message came from then?"

"We have an idea; we'll need the data from the black box to confirm it though. The ship's manifest mentions a stop in a local system, Strabo I think it's called, it's only after that that the logs show any signs of unusual activity. You two are going to have to dig any relevant data out on the way, try to narrow down where these came from. If we are walking into a trap, I want to know where, who, and how many."

"Yes, Commander." We each took a hold of one of the pallets, dragging the salvaged devices up towards Liz's little corner of the armoury.

* * *

"I've got it… at least I had it." Liz leaned over a datapad, tapping furiously at the keys. The datapad was tied by long leads than ran into the large, blue coloured black box that lay on the table through small holes drilled into the surface by precision laser cutters. For the past half hour she had labored to crack its encryption, to no avail. I had spent the time testing exactly how reflective the new mech plating was in a small rig towards the back of the room. "No, wait, I got it!" the red light on the box's surface flipped to green. "Data coming in…. now."

I leaned in over her shoulder and scanned the last few entries in the ship's log. The syntax was a little confusing, but an entry a few lines in drew my eye.

"There," I pointed out the offending line, "Jarrahe Research Station." The name brought up memories rapidly becoming distant, images of an empty station, dark and cold. There was blood on the floors and at its center sat a great grey computer, malevolent in its silence. A tug at my elbow brought me out of my reverie.

"Why Jarrahe?" Liz repeated.

"It's the last stop before the troubles started and look; an order for pickup, 180 LOKI mechs. If you were a rampant VI, how would you sneak aboard a ship?" Liz nodded, reading the same line.

"All that hard drive space, I guess it's as good a place as any. Let me take a look at what the Cerberus database can dig up on the station." She delved through the horde of data in silence, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. I focused on rebuilding what I thought I knew about the events of the _Corsica_ and Jarrahe Station from foggy recollections. That mission had definitely been an ambush, but then again the _Corsica_ mechs had attacked the party on sight. These standing statues were something entirely new. "Not much to go on here, the name is Salarian, that's for sure, but there are some signs of ties to Hahne-Kedar, and if they're moving around prototype armour pieces, there's a good chance they deal in research and development… hmm, I wonder?" and with that she was off again, muttering to herself and scrawling on a notepad.

"I'll leave you to it then," I said. She gave me a halfhearted wave goodbye without looking up from her work.

I slipped out onto the busy command deck and was instantly hit with a wall of buzzing conversation. The duty stations were full for the first time since the attack of the _Shadow Barge_, with many of the non-Cerberus crew returning to work after clearing the code-test. Only two had failed, the Broker triggers setting off a variety of strange behaviors, either overtly destructive or more subtle. One of the triggered crew members, a security officer, had gone berserk. Shepard had had to throttle the man into submission before he was carted away. The other man had been quiet, even deathly still. However, his surface reaction only told half the story. The communication room's complex anti-bugging suite had almost immediately detected two dozen hacking attempt before EVA was able to breach and shut down his cybernetic enhancements. Sadly, the sleeper agent hadn't survived the hack.

But now those who had been cleared for duty were in their seats. The rest of the crew still gave them a wide berth, but here or there long separated friends were sitting together enjoying a quiet conversation. The subject of those conversations, from what I could hear from the threshold, inevitably fell on our current investigation. The corrupted mechs were causing a major stir among the deck officers.

"Find anything?" I jumped a little as Commander Shepard walked up beside me. The Commander quietly eyed the crew at work, pausing to take a sip from a steaming mug before looking over to me.

"We think we have a pretty good lead," I flipped on my Omni-tool and pulled up an image of the Salarian research station, "Jarrahe Station was the last stop on the _Corsica's _tour, plus it's where they picked up our robotic spelling bee."

"Good, we'll move on this Jarrahe under stealth and see if we can't find out who's taken an interest in us." Shepard took a deep pull on her drink and let out a tired sigh. "If it turns up clean, I'll take a team in."

"Any chance of me tagging along?" I asked hopefully. My hopes were shot down as Shepard shook her head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Liddle, but I'm not going to overrule Chakwas on this. What I can do is give you a seat on mission control. You know, put you a little close to the action?"

"I don't know, Commander, my last hand at leading a mission…" I said quickly, remembering the hard grey concrete of the Virmire installation.

Shepard smiled weakly. "Look, I know you've lost people, but you can't let that hold you back going forward. I still think you've got what it takes to command. Look, I'm not asking you to take a squad onto the station, just be our eye in the sky." Her eyes bore into my own until I was forced to look away.

"Okay, I'll do it." I said slowly. In truth, it was the lack of action that convinced me, since being grounded I had developed an itch to get back into combat, and while sitting a screen away from it was far from the real thing, it was as close as the ship's authoritarian doctor would let me get away with.

"Good, I was afraid I'd have to give you a direct order. Find out what you can about this station, layout, systems, anything. I want you on the bridge when we do our first flyby."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

The _Normandy_ shivered slightly as it decelerated from FTL. Jarrahe Station hung in space, dark and silent. As it spun closer into view, I got my first good look at the enigmatic station. The station's body was a long tube, steel grey in colour with obvious openings for windows. At the base it flared to a wide open ended disk. It was on this disk that the station's spindly boarding tubes stuck out at irregular intervals.

"Bring us in, Joker, nice and steady." Shepard leaned close over the pilot, her slate grey armour already tightly buckled and a snub nosed sub machine gun clipped to a rig that hung about her shoulders. Her team had assembled by the airlock, Garrus, Zaeed, and Miranda. Garrus had finally replaced the shredded suit he had worn during his Archangel days in favour of a steel coloured set emblazoned with stylized eagles. Attached to his shoulder was a rack of miniaturized grenades.

"Looks dead," Joker muttered as we moved slowly past. The _Normandy_ shone a spotlight up and down the drifting metal structure, piercing the gaps in the smooth surface where windows dotted it.

"Can we get a closer look?" Shepard asked. The pilot nodded, tapping out a command. Close-in images of the station resolved in thin air as cameras in the hull whirred to try and get a clear line on the interior. The images were much the same; desolate hallways, empty rooms, and no evidence of habitation, former or otherwise.

_I am not picking any movement outside of random drifting, Shepard._

"This crawls, Commander," Joker said, "there's no way this isn't some kind of ambush." He eyed his scopes, as if expecting an armada to drop out of the black at any second.

"I know, Joker, but we need to get to the bottom of this. Bring us up to that docking tube over there." The pilot obeyed, bringing his ship in ever so slowly. At long last, there was a thump and a hiss as the tube pressurized outside. "Alright team, let's move in. Liddle, you know what to do." The squad moved into the open airlock, the doors cycling behind them. I went to my own seat, a spot almost parallel with the galaxy map that had been designated mission control. The interface was custom, overlays showed the helmet-cam views of the squad plus whatever the exterior cameras picked up. Behind everything was a rough blueprint pulled from the construction company's archives. It was a little too much to take in all at once, so I found myself gravitating to Shepard's view. As it stood, all that showed was the inside of the _Normandy's_ airlock.

"Normandy Control here, standby for comms check." I flipped the radios active switch and watched the lights flash green as each member of the team hooked into the Ship's tactical communication system.

_All team members report status green._ EVA materialized from the mission control's AI terminal.

"Thanks, EVA," I said as I pulled the unit's headset over my ears. "Recon team, atmosphere looks good, you are cleared to begin operation."

"Solid copy, moving in. Shepard replied in clipped tones. The outer airlock door whirred open. As the first team member took a step across the threshold, the skeletal blueprint of the station lit up with motion tracking data, information pumped in from the individual hardsuits.

"EVA, can you filter this for active threats? I don't want to get a ping every time someone kicks a can." The AI complied, clearing the clutter.

"The first lobby is clear, there's no one here to meet us," Shepard reported.

"No blood? Or signs of a struggle?" I asked.

"No, you expecting some?" Garrus cut in.

"Let's keep the chatter down, people," Miranda said. Then, addressing me, "Control, our recon should loop around to cover the station's computer core. We'll need a route and…" her words were cut off as something clanged loudly just outside the airlock. From the nearby window I could see lights slowly flicker on around the circumference of the station.

"Commander? Commander!"

* * *

Author's Note:

In the immortal words of Basil the great mouse detective, we set the trap off now!


	22. Chapter 22: Shadows Over Jarrahe

Interloper 2: Chapter 22

"Commander Shepard?" The screens displaying the recon team's helmet cam views clouded with static, revealing nothing. "Joker, can you boost the signal? Something's jamming our communications." I scrambled to get through the interference.

_Pushing additional power through the communications array. Please stand by._ EVA's avatar flickered as the _Normandy_'s power systems shifted. The haze on the monitors shifted, giving a dim view of the corridor. Over the radio, shouted commands and requests for information drifted as if shouted down a long hallway.

"… going on. Zaeed, watch those doorways. Miranda, you have anything that can cut through this door?" before the Cerberus officer could answer the Commander, I cut in.

"Shepard, what's going on in there? The ship's sensors are being jammed." The Commander stopped giving orders and the line went silent but for the hissing and snapping of static. I was just about to repeat my question when she started talking again.

"_Normandy_, the outer door to the stationside airlock is shut tight, the controls aren't responding to hacks or other overrides."

"Anything else, are you under attack?" another pause. Whatever was jamming the comms must have been putting some kind of delay into the lines.

"Negative, station is quiet as a tomb. If you have any handy, I suggest you bring up plasma cutters to get this door open." I quickly relayed the order to EVA, who flickered of to rouse the engineering crews to action. "Listen, if nothing comes at us before the cutting crew gets to work, I'm taking my team deeper in to do some investigating. I don't like being trapped and I want to find out who the hell is doing this."

"I don't know, Commander, if it can lock you out of the door controls, there's no telling what this thing is capable of. Just to remind you this is a mech and weapons testing facility, this ambusher's going to have a lot of toys to mess around with."

"That's a chance I'm going to have to take, Deputy. Now, do you still have access to this place's blueprints?"

I sighed and ground my palms into my eyes before replying. Back in control for less than ten minutes and already things were going terribly wrong.

"Yes, I won't be able to track you through all of this noise though; you're going to have to describe what you see to me." I brought the blueprints to the front of the monitor. Without the overlaid data, it was much emptier. Manually dragging a marker to the docking tube, I traced a route to the computer core with my finger. "Alright, I've got some good news and some bad news."

"No time for theatrics, Liddle, what's the situation?"

"Okay, I've found a route to the core, good news is it's on your level, bad news is you're going to have to pass through the station's central security room."

"Place is deserted, War Hero, unless you're worried about us running into some renta-bots," Zaeed helpfully contributed. Throwing a dirty look at the empty box that represented the old mercenary, I shot back.

"Let me finish, the security station can only be accessed through the laser testing labs. Depending on how quickly this place was abandoned, they may have left something on. Also, when this station receives a security alert the entire place locks down. To get access to the core you're going to have to…" I retraced the route, following the spindly stalk of power lines that left the core. "… cut the power two levels up, the quickest unblocked way is through the steam tunnels."

"Those sound… less than inviting," Garrus said. "I don't suppose there's a route that takes us through the armoury? Or perhaps the cafeteria?"

"I'm afraid not, Garrus," I said. I paused as the elevator doors rolled open, disgorging the _Normandy's _Caledonian chief engineer and a crew hauling the ship's largest plasma cutter, an unwieldy beast not entirely affectionately named "the Dragon."

"Don' worry, Deputy. We'll have this door open in a jiffy," the engineer said in his thick accent, "they 'avn't made a door that can withstand the Dragon." The team worked in concert to move the tool down the bridge neck, turning the corner out of sight. It wasn't long before the stuttering roar of the torch could be heard biting into the thick outer plates of the station's doors.

"Cutting in progress, Commander," I reported, "if you're serious about scouting out the station, I suggest you make your move, despite what our esteemed engineer says, I think they're going to be at those doors for a while."

"Solid Copy, control, what's our first move?"

"Hallway on the left of the lobby, you're going to want to continue…"

* * *

The team's progress through the station was slow. Every now and again someone would turn the wrong way, or I would give the wrong direction. The _Normandy_ was quiet except for the constant hiss of the plasma torch and the heavy clang of the plates reinforcing the door falling one by one to the ground. The monitor still showed a monochrome sandstorm in place of the team's video feeds, while the marker I had been using to keep track of the party stood gently flashing outside of the steam tunnels.

"Alright Commander, you should be able to see it now. It'll be low to the ground, and marked with a red cloud icon."

"I see it," Shepard replied simply. "The door's hot; something's still running in there."

"The generator coolant pipes run behind that tunnel, the reactor must be running to power all of this jamming."

"We're not equipped for operation in direct contact with this stuff. Too long in there and we'll fry," Garrus said.

"The steam flow should be intermittent," I said, "There's four of five spots it's likely to vent. If you can storm through those…"

"I gotta better idea," Zaeed interrupted. There was a sound of squealing metal that set my teeth on edge.

"Commander? What's going on?"

"Zaeed is tearing a chunk out of the wall; hold on a second, I think I know where he's going with this." There was a second squeal as Shepard joined the burly mercenary in his efforts. Finally there was a clatter as something heavy dropped to the ground. Breathing heavily, the Commander reopened the channel. "We've got a rudimentary heat shield now; it should keep the majority of the steam off of us."

"Alright, good," inwardly I kicked myself for not coming up with something so simple, "now that door is probably locked, the default combination is…" there was a crunch, "…. Not so important anymore. Once you head in there, take your first left. And watch the vents, you'll get a little warning, but not much." There was a hiss of escaping vapour and a stifled curse as the team moved into the tunnels.

"You weren't kidding," Garrus exclaimed. The team improved it's watchfulness as they continued down the steam tunnel. Several times they had to stop to deflect another great gout of steam with their ad hoc heat shield, until at long last they reached the end.

"Alright, Deputy, we're at the end of the road."

"There should be a terminal nearby, it isn't marked as hardened on the blueprints, so hacking it shouldn't be a problem." The Commander confirmed, and soon I heard the fluted tones of an Omni-tool cheerfully breaking into the station's power grid. I took the moment to stand and stretch. Behind me the hiss of the torch was still drifting from the locked down doors of the station.

"Got it!" the monitors suddenly sprang to life, the static clearing. The exterior scopes also cleared up, revealing something lurking at the edge of the scopes. Something big. Something moving in our direction. Joker's shouted exclamation perfectly summed up my own feelings as my heart plummeted into my stomach.

"Oh shit!"

* * *

"What do you mean, 'Oh shit?'" Shepard's voice was hard, "The way to the security station is clear now, right?"

I scanned the newly revealed scans, confirming that the hallways had opened. "Yeah, your way is open, but we've got bigger problems now."

"The mechs waking up?"

"Bigger, I think an old friend's come to play," I choked out, eyeing the boxy form that loomed out of the black like a shark on the hunt. It's shape, combined with its complete lack of identifying signals left little doubt as to who had turned up to hound us.

"The _Shadow Barge_," Shepard said darkly, "Tell Joker to stealth the ship, switch comms. to modulate frequency, I don't want anyone listening in."

"I knew something was up with this station, the _Barge _must have messed with that freighter!" Joker responded. He hid the rising panic in his voice well. "Commander, you gotta pull out of there. The _Normandy's_ a sitting duck out here."

"We're receiving a transmission!" Yeoman Chamber's voice cut through the buzz, "The Barge is transmitting in the clear."

"Patch it through," Shepard ordered. A tone sounded, and the grating, mechanical voice of the _Barge's_ captain began to play over the ship's speakers.

"My my, someone's been busy. Cerberus ship _Normandy_, it was most unfortunate that you chose to elude us on our last encounter. Needless to say, we cannot allow a similar occurrence this time around. However, I am not without mercy. You will be given the opportunity to hand over the ship, and its commander. I assure you that you will not be harmed." Somewhere on the bridge, a member of the deck crew loudly and explicitly made their feelings known in regards to the _Barge's_ offer.

_Analysis of the transmission reveals the presence of at least fifteen known Shadow Broker trigger phrases interlaced with the audio transmission. They have been filtered to avoid further incidents with the crew._ EVA reported.

"That's a start, at least we won't have a rampaging mech to reveal our location," Shepard said over the radio, "Is there a way we can safely relay a message to this _Shadow Barge_? I want to talk to this captain of theirs." She spoke back and forth with Kelly Chambers, but my mind drifted back to the captain's greeting.

_Someone's been busy?_ I thought. Why would he say that? And if the station was a Broker ploy, why wasn't he headed straight for it? His current course was much the same as the one we had taken into the system, but if he kept it up he would steam straight by us. Something clicked.

"It's not the Broker," I burst out.

"I'm sorry?" the Commander said, somewhat bemused at the interruption, "You're saying the _Shadow Barge_ is not in the employ of the Shadow Broker?"

"No, I mean the station; it's not part of the trap. Miranda, the front company we're using to mine, is it the same one as the first time we ran into the _Barge_?" the Australian officer took a while to answer.

"Yes," she said slowly, "With resources tighter than usual, Cerberus can't afford to just dissolve and reform its shell corporations. The Resource and Development Agency cover has served us well. You're not suggesting…"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. I think the Shadow Broker's been tracking are movements through our mining permits."

"Look, we can swap theories later," Shepard cut in, "How close is the _Barge_, and how much time until they're within identification range?"

"The way they're moving, they'll be in visual range within twenty minutes. After that no amount of stealth is going keep us hidden," Joker said. There was silence on the line until Shepard spoke again.

"You're going to have to get us to that computer core fast, Deputy, we're not going to get much time."

"Commander…"

"I know, but the Shadow Broker won't leave any evidence of who or what left this little trail of breadcrumbs for us, and I'm not going to let him sweep them under the rug. Besides, the door is going to take a while to cut through, may as well make use of the time we have." From the cams of the other team members, I could see the resolve plastered across the Commander's face, the stony war mask firmly in place. There would be no arguing with her.

"Alright… head back down the tunnel, take a right at the fork, there's a service elevator that'll take you down to the main level," my eyes flicked to the boxy q-ship prowling through space towards us, "Once you get back to the security station, I'll walk you through the steps to unlock the core chamber." The team set off, their views bouncing across the steel grey walls of Jarrahe Station. Soon their heavy breathing rang across the comm circuit as they drove down empty halls. The team piled into the open elevator with a crash of ceramic plates, their descent marked on the blueprints. Something else lit up on wireframe model, three red icons lighting up in the hallway.

"Commander, you've got movement up ahead. I think the station's reacting to the _Shadow Barge's _approach." In Garrus' helmet cam, I saw the hallway whirl as he turned a corner. Bright blue kinetic rounds lanced out towards him, stopping short as his barriers intercepted them. I watched Garrus return fire, but couldn't make out his target.

"Looks like mechs," Garrus grunted, answering my silent question, "Two of them now." More shots rang out as Miranda and Zaeed piled around the corner and added to the volume of fire. Already my heartbeat was rising, the second hand combat rousing a pale echo of the excitement of being under live fire.

As Shepard turned the corner, something very strange happened. The sole surviving mech raised its weapon, readying to fire on the charging commander. As Shepard came into full view, it shuddered, stacked eyes blinking.

"Hold fire!" Shepard raised a clenched fist, signaling for a stoppage of fire. She approached the jittering mech cautiously, slowly. Its head had come to rest on its chest, and even through the comm channel I could hear it humming.

"EVA, could you run that hum through some filters, try to find out if there's anything hidden in there."

_Working. Done, once the 'hum' was slowed to 33% speed and pitch corrected, it yielded the following: Shepard….Shepard…..Shepard. It appears our admirer has control of the station's defenses. _The AI said sardonically.

"Commander, EVA suggests that you take point, it appears the mechs on the station…. Like you."

"The mechs like me… Well, thanks, Liddle, I'll take it under advisement." The Commander replied as the team began to move again. More mechs were activating now, the burning lights of their thermal emissions winking into existence across the stations. The waking station was not lost on the captain of the _Shadow Barge_.

"Cerberus Ship _Normandy,_ while your stealth systems are impressive they cannot hide you if you insist on attaching yourself to such an obvious haven. I'm afraid your game of hide and seek has come to an end. There is still a chance for you…"

"This is Commander Shepard of the SSV _Normandy 2_ to the captain of the _Shadow Barge_, if you have something to say to me, why don't you say it to my face? Continued calls for mutiny among my crew clearly aren't serving you." Shepard's voice cut sharply across the channel.

"Ah, Commander, my apologies. Sadly I fear you are right, it appears you have an unusually loyal crew. I want you to know, I'd be delighted to hold this conversation face to face, in one of our hardened cells, of course," the mechanical voice said, in a voice that somehow seemed both grating and oily.

"It's not unusual for a crew to stick with their commander," Shepard shot back grimly, "especially commanders who don't stoop to brainwashing and conditioning their men." Even as she verbally sparred with the enemy captain, Shepard drew closer to the Station's computer core. Station security mechs stood aside as the team raced by.

"Do they not, Commander? Do you truly believe that your Cerberus puppet masters do not hold your strings tightly in their fists? I had thought you more intelligent. Perhaps the Broker is correct in his assumption that you were little more than the Council's thug." The jab raised red hot anger in me, but the Commander's voice remained cool. She replied as the team skated to a halt in front of the wide security doors.

"I've been called worse," the Commander gestured, Garrus and Zaeed silently moved to pry the doors open, "what I don't get is why the Broker has put so many resources into getting me back, if I am a 'mere thug.'" The doors fell open, baring the hallway to the computer core.

"I don't expect you to understand the reasoning," the captain of the _Barge_ replied, "either way it does not matter, I have you now." Light and sound flooded the bridge as the _Shadow Barge_ aligned with the station, its hidden gun ports opening to pour kinetic rounds at the unarmoured installation.

"Commander!" Joker squawked, "This station isn't going to last long against this thing. I'll stay as long as you need me but I really don't want to lose my baby again!"

"Just a few more minutes," Shepard coaxed. On the juddering feeds, the core lay exposed to her outstretched Omni-tool.

"There must be something we can do to hold them off a little longer!" I yelled over the din of the long range bombardment.

"There's nothing I can do tied to this hunk of junk!" Joker yelled back, "EVA, is there anything our robot overlord can pull to get us out of this.

_I thought you'd never ask._ The AI said smugly as its avatar dissolved into lines of code. _Engaging cyber warfare suite. Targeting enemy aiming and fire control. I'm in._ the AI worked fast, ruthlessly crushing the ship's electronic defenses with repeated thrusts. The incoming fire slackened off and diffused. _Shadow Broker agents are already enabling back up countermeasures. I do not know if I can hold them for long._ For the first time worry entered the AI's voice, and perhaps the lightest strains of fear.

"On my way back, just a little longer!" Shepard and co. loped through the collapsing halls of Jarrahe Station as more rounds began to slam into its superstructure. At the doors to the installation, the Dragon finally burst through into the docking tube.

"Way's clear for you Commander!" yelled, blood rushing in my ears and sweat beading my forehead. The whole ship bucked as a stray round impacted on its kinetic barriers. There was an ungodly crash outside the airlock as fragments threatened to sever the tenuous connection. Footsteps beat loudly through the radio, until the cam views finally showed the interior of the _Normandy, _just a few steps out of reach. The docking bridge burst like an overripe fruit, unable to take anymore punishment. The feeds went dead. For a single sickening second, I feared the worst.

"Go! Everyone's aboard! Get us moving Lieutenant!" Shepard's voice rang sharp and clear across the deck and the _Normandy_ roared forward, ducking around the station to shoot around the other side as it disintegrated. With a whirlwind of colours, the ship lurched into FTL, carrying us to safety.

* * *

Author's Note:

This chapter brought to you by the fantastic inspirational music of Two Steps From Hell, especially their All Drums Go to War album. I thought I'd try to cut this one longer than usual. Let me know if you'd prefer these longer segments to my usual 2000 word segments. Each chapter would likely cover similar amounts of ground, but this format lets me write a little more densely. Either way, keep up the reviews, they are my lifesblood.

ShadowDragon010: Yes, I'm afraid I've picked up quite a habit for them. I like to imagine each of my chapters ends with a Lost style sting and smash cut to black.

NonSolus: Hopefully not too mysterious. I'm enjoying setting up this arc, I just hope the pay off will be as enjoyable.

Dracconnis: I can confirm that EDI was not on the station. What was on the station, well, you'll just have to keep reading won't you.

N7DCarter: I'm glad you are enjoying it. I update twice a week, with the occasional triple post, so no need to worry about running out of pages to turn.


	23. Chapter 23: Untempered Iron

Interloper 2: Chapter 23

"A Hahne-Kedar plant?" the holographic representation of the Illusive man asked. It was my first time sitting in on one of Shepard's little conference calls; so far I had silently waited in the corner, out of sight of the ship's transmission pad.

"Yes, the corrupted station VI was definitely offloaded from Hahne-Kedar's Capek facility. Our intel pegs it as an automated mech factory, a regional distribution node for the Alliance's mechanized security forces. I want to take a team to check the facility out, find out who's handing out VI's with me on the brain."

"If I recall from your report," the Illusive man said after taking a long drag on his omnipresent cigarette, "the Jarrahe ambush ended up in a close escape on your part, more interference from our adversaries among the agents of the Shadow Broker. What's to say this isn't another chance to capture you? No, I cannot authorize such a risky venture. I brought you back to fight the Reapers, not to go investigating every curiosity and cry for help in the galaxy. Proceed to Illium as planned." The projection flickered and died, the light cage surrounding Shepard sinking into the floor. Shepard rubbed at her eyes and shook her head.

"You know, for someone so vocally dedicated for the advancement of Humanity, he sure can be short sighted when it comes to threats to our survival," she looked over at me with a wan smile, "any thoughts?" the question shocked me a little, I had been so wrapped up in other thoughts I hadn't really had time to form any on our current situation.

"I don't know, Commander, maybe we throw it on our to do list, send a team down if we're ever in the area?"

"I think that'll have to be our Plan A. For now he has a point, Illium is highest in our short term priorities."

"We've got our next mission then?" I asked. Shepard nodded, taking a seat heavily in one of the conference chairs.

"Yes, We're recruiting, mostly, there's an asari Justicar being held by local law enforcement. The Illusive man wants her on the mission. I can't argue with him, strong biotics, over a century in combat experience, and a looker to boot." She skated a datapad over the newly risen table. The familiar image of Samara burned in the upper corner. The dusky skinned asari stood in her lacquered red armour plate, a severe yet haunted look draped across her features.

"A Justicar, eh?" I asked.

"The real deal, what've you heard about them?"

"An ancient order of peacekeepers, with broad scoping powers to hunt down fugitives and the like. A lot like the Spectres only more so and more religiously rooted. Liara gave me the rundown once." I lied at Shepard's arched eyebrow.

"That about sums it up. She's bound by a code of Honour, which if we convince her to join us will make her one of the most dedicated members of the team, of course if we tick her off…"

"We'll just have to do our best to keep to the straight and narrow I guess," I responded. "You said she was being held by law enforcement?"

"Justicars tend to leave a lot of collateral. I would have to guess that whoever's in charge wants to keep her impact to a minimum. This Samara has been bounced from station to station to prevent her from simply walking out as her code demands, but the Illusive Man believes even a Justicar's patience would have been stretched to the breaking point by now."

"So what's the mission, a jailbreak?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Shepard said with a light laugh, "Samara's got business on Illium; she wouldn't have come so far from Thessia otherwise. If we can clear up whatever it is that's keeping her here, we should be able to convince her to join on. She's not the only reason, of course. Feron says he has contacts that might be able to help us with our stalker problem."

"Can we trust him?" I asked. If his contact was who I thought it was, the intel would be good, but there was no way of knowing who the guarded drell served anymore. His loyalties aside, I didn't even know if Liara had taken the same path, we hadn't been in contact since we separated ways on Ilos.

"I think we can, as far as we can trust anyone we've brought on this mad quest. He was instrumental in keeping the suspected half of the crew from mutiny. And if his intel is actionable, we can't afford to let it go to waste. The Illusive man was right, that last escape was too close for comfort. We're going to have to start hitting back."

"Well the latest shipment of platinum is in, we should be able to begin installing the Phoenix cannon," I noted, remembering a conversation with a gleeful Liz and a more restrained but equally excited Garrus.

"It's a start. Apparently the asari have been working on a new crystalline armour plate, I want to retrieve a sample on Illium, if we can. That'll be your job. You're going to take down your colonist friend; she'll know what you're looking for."

"I can do that," I said. I looked down at my Omni-tool's chronometer. I had another sparring session scheduled with Zaeed in a quarter hour.

"You got somewhere to be?" Shepard asked almost playfully.

"I, uh, have a game with Garrus," I covered. I didn't want my combat training with the surly mercenary to become common knowledge, especially with my medical operations ban still in effect.

"I'll let you go then, and Liddle…" I stopped halfway to the door, "Good job on the MC, that was a tough situation." I left without responding.

* * *

Zaeed's lair was once again cloaked in shadows, the single light source tucked far into the back of the room. I moved in cautiously, ready for an attack from behind. The ambush came from the side. With a whisper quiet rasping noise, the aging sell sword struck. Something thin and sharp pressed lightly against my throat. I moved to throw back the extended arm, but the man's other hand grasped me roughly by the shirt.

"I wouldn't do that, War Hero," Zaeed clucked roughly, "ol' Sweetie here's sharp enough to slice you wafer thin. I resisted the urge to gulp and cast my eyes downwards and spotted the glint of something steely.

"Hello, Sweetie," I said, "I guess we're working with knives today?"

"Not just _knives_," the burly man said as if wounded, "this… is the Bayonet." He withdrew and flipped the blade with a flourish, revealing a hooked grip and a thick metal loop in the hand guard. In the hand, it's dangerous, but on the end of a rifle and it's deadly. You put enough weight behind a point, and aim at the right point, the simple steel can bypass even the most advanced composite armour. And you can throw it, in a pinch." He demonstrated by hurling the blade across the room, piercing one of the many photographs tacked to the metal bulkhead.

"how can the enemy push his button if you've disabled his hand?" I muttered to myself. Zaeed chuckled darkly.

"You've been doing your homework, move to the front of the fucking class," he said.

"Hmm? What? Oh, no, I was just remembering… Wait, homework?" I hadn't remembered the training having required reading.

"What's this? He quotes my own maxims to me and doesn't even know where they come from?" Zaeed asked no one in particular, his voice acidly sarcastic, "You're in for a treat, kid." He flicked on the lights, bathing the room in light. He moved to a box in the back and began to rummage. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He withdrew something I hadn't seen in a long time, an honest, ink and paper book, bound in faded blue leather by the look of it and roughly treated by the look of it. Zaeed clasped the thing in gauntleted hands as reverently as any priest presenting his personal Bible. The cover was emblazoned by a couched oval in white, the symbol of the Blue Suns. "The Codex Caesitas, the Blue Book, the methods laid down by yours truly for turning boys into soldiers worthy of bearing the name Blue Sun. Maxim 183; An enemy's technological advantage is useless if he cannot gain access to it. Often paraphrased in practice with the disabling of hands."

Zaeed closed the book carefully, giving the cover an affectionate stroke with metal tipped fingers. Perhaps remembering that I was still in the room, because he slammed the book back into the box.

"So, knife training then?" I asked cautiously. Zaeed made a gruff noise in his throat and reached back into the box. He tossed something, which I stumbled to catch. It was a length of metal bar, about a foot long and rusty in colour. "I'm fighting with this?"

"You're _training_ with that, until I trust you not to cut your own fingers off. Now, come at me." He spread his arms wide and low, taking a step back. I held the faux dagger tightly. I hadn't expected this, and I knew little about knife fighting, only the basics really; keep a light footing, strike fast, feint high, cut low. I adopted a low stance, waiting for a reaction. Zaeed stood still, arms still wide and hands empty. I swung in, a slash at the shoulder. It was over in seconds. It took me a while to realize why the back wall of the room had suddenly turned into the ceiling.

"You committed too early, let me know where you were coming from," Zaeed said, turning his back and pacing around the room, hands clasped behind him. I pushed myself to my feet, "a move like that on the battlefield will get you killed. Try again."

I tried again and again. I tried weaving, ducking, once kicking, but each time the mercenary met me with an iron grip at the wrist and a vicious twist down to the floor. After a particularly wrenching take down, I snapped at the man.

"Are you going to train me or what? I didn't sign up for you to toss me around like a doll."

"Oh really?" Zaeed said, quietly, threateningly, "what did you sign up for then, War Hero? What did you expect me to teach you?" I took a step back self-consciously.

"I don't know, techniques?" I waved the steel baton absent mindedly I front of me as I spoke. The other man started to laugh, a raucous and rough sound that echoed in the small room.

"Techniques? Ha! Is that what you thought fighting was? what I was going to teach you in here? Let me tell you a thing about technique." The massive soldier grabbed at the rubberized plating on his upper left arm, tearing away the powered undersuit. It revealed a reddened and untattooed patch high on his bicep. A vicious and jagged scar ran across the muscle. "Got this on Earth, before I got off the stinking overcrowded place. Was in a gang, thought we were tough as nails, learned some of your vaunted _technique_ off a Sino-Russian kid. Well we got into a fight with some of our neighbors, bunch of Germans, big guys. One of 'em came at me with bit of pipe, a lot like that bit you got in your 'and right now. I tried a spot of technique and he gave me this in return. If you learn one thing from me, learn this. Battles are won by iron in your hand and in your belly. Some of your friends might tell you otherwise, but they don't know shit about a close in fight. I was the only one who walked away from that gang fight, and it wasn't because of fancy footwork. Now, get lost, I got shit to do."

Zaeed let go of my shirt, his fists leaving bunches in the fabric. I brushed them away, shocked. I hadn't even realized the man had grabbed me; I had been so fixated on the age dulled scar.

* * *

Author's Note:

This chapter came out pretty dialogue heavy, which I felt was necessary. I'm really enjoying delving into the nutcase that is Zaeed Massani, who has to be one of my favorite characters and the base inspiration for a good half of my DnD PCs. In the game he's kind of a one line, gruff kind of fellow, which i hope i can channel here and perhaps improve on. In another note, I have a new story up called Vanguard of Vengeance, which is an AU in which Shepard fails to disarm the bombs at Eden Prime, uncovering a familiar figure.

Pygmalion: Now where would you get a crazy idea like that...


	24. Chapter 24: Reunions

Interloper 2: Chapter 24

Even from space, the commerce planet of Illium was achingly beautiful. Approaching from the night side, the entire planet glistened with the winking lights of civilization, lights that gave way to a striking violet sky and pale blue waters as the _Normandy_ crossed the terminator. There was a quiet thrumming as the ship entered the thin upper atmosphere, as if even the _Normandy_ herself was basking in the planet's light. The rounded spires of the cityscape rose up to meet us as we skimmed across the water.

Some of the beauty was lost on me, due to the throbbing in my wrist. Without admitting to sparring lessons behind her back, I could hardly ask Doctor Chakwas for some painkillers, so I bore it in silence. On the bright side, I also bore a pistol on my hip for the first time in what felt like forever. The doc had looked disapprovingly on my new array of bumps and bruises, but since the swelling and tenderness in my ribs had all but faded, I had been given a pass for ground missions again.

"We are cleared for docking, Commander," Joker said cheerily, "God; I can't wait to get off the ship for a while. You know, take in the sights."

"We're not here for sight-seeing, Joker," Shepard laughed, "though I wouldn't blame you for wanting to get away for a while." Everyone in the cockpit gave the AI terminal a glance, but the ship's cyber warfare suite was apparently busy making itself scarce from the asari's docking scan. Shepard turned away from the open cockpit windows and walked back to where the rest of the team had gathered. We were all equipped with civilian style low impact armour rigs that projected their own kinetic barriers but lacked the ceramic plating of the hardsuits. While Garrus and I chose to wear them out in the open, Feron had chosen to wear his under what I assumed passed for formal wear and Liz wore a simple grey jumpsuit. All of us carried light weapons.

"You have your assignments; remember that we're working on a deadline here. That being said, we've had a couple of tough calls, so once you're done here take some time to blow off a little steam. Just don't end up signing away anything crucial to the mission. That means equipment, credits, and various body parts. Now move out."

There was a good humored murmur as the airlock door rolled open and the crew dispersed.

"Um, Commander, someone is coming," Liz pointed out a well-dressed asari moving quickly towards the _Normandy_, flanked by a pair of security mechs.

"Do not worry, I believe I know the meaning of this," Feron buzzed quietly, "My contact will have received word that we have arrived in system."

"Exactly who is your contact, Feron?" Shepard asked, but the asari reached us before she could receive her answer.

"Commander Shepard, my name is Careena, and it is my privilege to welcome you to Nos Astra," the asari said in a formal voice that sounded neither welcoming nor particularly privileged, "I have also been asked to inform you that the usual administrative paperwork and docking fees have been taken care of, you are free to go about your business unrestrained as long as you follow the laws and regulations of Illium, available on our extranet site." The official spoke with a carefully modulated monotone that would make Avina jealous.

"Taken care of? By whom?" Shepard asked.

"Why by Liara T'Soni, of course. She's been expecting your arrival since the daily reports stopped coming out of Horizon. Now, if you have no further questions, I will allow you to go on your way."

"One question," Shepard said, "how do we find Doctor T'Soni? I'm sure a few among my party are anxious to speak with her."

"Oh, yes. Here," she handed Shepard a small datapad, roughly four inches square, "this should lead you to her office, it's not far from here. Now, have a good day." She turned with a swish of skirts and headed back down the long docking bay hallway. Shepard tossed the pad to me.

"Lead on, deputy, you're with us now."

"I… but…" I stammered, "I thought I was heading down to look for components."

"Romano can take care of herself. Anyway, I think this would be good for you," she replied. Liz agreed, ensuring me that she'd take one of her mechs down with her into the markets.

* * *

"This is the place," I said, looking up at the office building that rose three levels above the street. An open portal led up to a set of gently sloping stairs decorated in soft colours. It looked more like a dentist's office than the lair of one of the galaxy's top information brokers. "The pad says Liara's office is on the second floor."

Behind us the chatter of the open market floor rose and fell as traders jostled to get their wares into the hands of paying customers. A few pieces had caught my eye on the way over, especially an offer on an onboard data storage and processor system that would boost Omni-tool effectiveness my two hundred percent, if the salarian hawking it could be believed. We hadn't come to Illium for the shopping though. Taking a deep breath, I took the first step into the office cheerfully marked as the Nos Astra Observer.

The door was open, leading into a small lobby staffed by a harried looking asari. When she saw us, she almost leapt from her desk.

"I'm sorry, the Observer isn't accepting new writers at the moment. Nor will you find us back on the shelves in the foreseeable future."

"We're here for Liara T'Soni," Shepard said with a look of confusion, "we were told to come here by an asari who goes by Careena." The transformation on the asari assistant's face was as stunning as it was sudden. The look of barely constrained panic was instantly replaced with a cold and business like visage. Her voice lost its worried sound too, being replaced by harder tones.

"You must be Shepard, Liddle," she said, nodding to each of us in turn, "you'll forgive the theatrics, a necessary cover story for an operation of our size. If you'll continue in through the back door, you'll find Dr. T'Soni."

"Thank you," Shepard said. The identified door was small and none descript, anywhere else it could have been mistaken for a supply cupboard or other side room. We walked quietly through what looked like an empty newsroom, terminals off and closed on desks cloaked in a thin film of dust, which in itself was an impressive achievement given the wide spread use of dust repellants. I had to suppress a nervous shake as we neared the small non-descript door. The feeling of unease really got under my skin and I found myself sweating. Outwardly I struggled to keep a face of feigned indifference, but inwardly I cursed myself. It had been literally years since I last stood face to face with the asari archeologist turned information broker, and though our last meeting had been an argument, the break had always felt clean. So why did I feel like I was walking back into my first day at high school?

"You still with me, Liddle?" Shepard asked quietly, "you look about a million miles away."

"Yeah, and about twelve years away too," I muttered. At her confused expression, I spoke more clearly. "Still with you, Commander, just drifted off for a second." The shake was mercifully absent from my voice.

"Good," the Commander replied, stopping just short of the door. "So, do you think we knock?" her question was answered almost immediately, as a voice rang clearly from an intercom box mounted high above the door.

"Please, come in." Liara's voice was as I remembered it, gentle and slightly distant. It held a new steel now, a sound of professionalism it never evoked during her days on the _Normandy_ one. By the sounds of it we had both done a lot of growing up since we separated. The doors opened silently, revealing a comfortably furnished office that remained tastefully understated. The desk was simple, if loaded down with a variety of media. One the walls hung a few oil paintings of landscapes, including a few I recognized, including Therum and Ilos. Liara stood with her back to us, her eyes locked on a point somewhere beyond the wide window that looked down onto the plaza below. My own gaze fell onto the street as well, lips forming a smile as they caught sight of Liz moving through the crowd atop one of the _Normandy_'s reprogrammed mechs, her usually short frame now towering over the other market goers.

"Shepard, it is good to see you," Liara said as she turned. Her face was a mask, betraying neither surprise nor even acknowledgment at my presence.

"Liara, you don't seem surprised to see me," Shepard's reply was equally guarded.

"No," Liara's carefully cultivated calm broke, "my agents have been keeping tabs on your progress." At that, Feron, who had been waiting silently beyond the threshold of the room, stepped forward with a bow.

"Dr. T'Soni, I know my orders were to passively observe and report, but I felt that the time had come to bring them into the fold. You have received my latest reports on the _Shadow Barge_ encounters?"

"Yes, thank you Feron. You have done well."

"So he works for you?" Shepard asked, "I thought you were working for the Shadow Broker before you came over to Cerberus."

"I did, for a time," the drell said self-consciously, "I was assigned to the team tasked with retrieving your body after your death at the hands of the Collectors. It was Doctor T'Soni's intervention that resulted in our compromise with Cerberus. I was part of that compromise; my interaction with the upper levels of the Shadow Broker's elite did not leave me unmarked."

"They were going to turn you into a trophy, Shepard. You have always been a friend to me. I couldn't let that happen. When I found Cerberus they were hurting for resources, but their Lazarus Project was already in the development stages."

"Well, I'm grateful. I have to say I'm a little surprised at this move into information brokering. I thought you were a Prothean researcher, heart and soul." A shadow of sadness welled up behind Liara's eyes.

"It's true I've had to set aside my work on Ilos to set up here, but I wouldn't change my decision in a heartbeat. The Shadow Broker did not take Cerberus' departure from their deal with grace, and these new resources of mine have given me the ability to fend off their assaults."

"You've been keeping tabs on us all?" I asked, unsure whether to be surprised or not.

"I tried to deflect the worst of the Shadow Broker's attempts to assert a measure of control over Shepard's actions through hostages. A few times more direct intervention was required. Cook's Landing was targeted almost a half dozen times before you left, and once after."

"Well… thank you," I said, stunned at my apparent seven near brushes with a Shadow Broker holding cell.

"It was my pleasure; Cook's Landing was a nice change of pace from the buzz of Illium." Liara gave me a small smile. "Now, you wanted some information on the _Shadow Barge_?" she addressed Shepard now, "I have a little information on the ship, the Broker doesn't allow its existence to become widely known, even within his own organization." The asari moved to sit behind her desk and rummaged among the piles of datapads and flash sheets. "It's a 'Q-ship' of unknown speed and power. All we know is that it was converted from an old Antilles-class bulk freighter, most likely altered far beyond the original specs. What we do know is that the pattern of confirmed sightings put its engines into the range of top end military gear. Its captain is chosen from among the Broker's most trusted and feared enforcers. The current captain took command a little over two years ago."

"He certainly has a knack for finding us at the worst possible moment." Shepard said.

"Yes, well, that is more easily explained. Cerberus is becoming quite lax in its security as some of its more wealthy backers find other organizations to spend their credits on. I believe you discovered the cause of their pinpoint ambushes by yourself."

"Yes, Liddle discovered a match between our mining operations and the _Shadow Barge's_ attacks. My XO has assured me that the leak has been plugged."

"It has, at least for now. Since Feron has the freedom to operate in the open now, hopefully we'll be able to better coordinate as far as security leaks go."

"I'd like that," Shepard said. The room fell into silence before Shepard spoke again. "Liara, I know you've got this whole operation here, but would you consider coming with me? Joining the crew again?" this time the pained expression was clearly evident on Liara's face.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but my network requires more maintenance than I could comfortably provide from aboard the _Normandy_. I hope you understand, but I have more going on than running interference on the Broker's pursuit of you." Shepard clearly looked put out, but she let out a long sigh.

"I understand. I appreciate the help on this _Shadow Barge_ situation, and I hope we can work more closely in the future."

"As do I, speaking of which, I could use a favour. I know that it sounds unfair to ask…"

"No, go ahead," Shepard interrupted, "How can I help you?" Liara smiled at Shepard's offered assistance and began to explain how Shepard could help her plug a possible leak in her local operations. Shepard listened carefully to the process of hacking the nearby terminals for evidence of secret transmissions. Shepard nodded in understanding and we both began to rise.

"Actually, Liddle, I was hoping you'd hang back and help coordinate with our other teams dotted around the city. Maybe go over more of our intel with Doctor T'Soni." I looked at my Commander with a look of pained betrayal. Shepard gave me a wink and set off into the city, bringing Feron with her.

"So, Michael…" Liara said slowly. I turned back to face her and found her looking strangely vulnerable.

"Liara." I said, mouth uncomfortably dry.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" she asked, apparently reading my mind. I nodded. She rose and walked to a small table of to the side of the office and poured something pale purple into a pair of glasses. She returned and hand one to me. "It's a fruit juice, nothing strong." She assured me and took a sip from her own glass. I took a drink from my own, letting the flavour rest on my tongue. It was shockingly familiar.

"I know this, this was grown on Cook's Landing," I said, taking a deeper drink. The pale citrus gave me an odd sense of being home, even though it came from a planet I couldn't even have imagined while living at my true home.

"Oh, is it?" Liara said awkwardly, the colour in her cheeks deepening. She took another deep gulp and looked away out of the window. My eyes fell on my own glass. "It is good to see you, Michael." She said, bringing my gaze back up. She wore a fragile smile.

"It's good to see you too, Liara. I've… missed you, since Ilos. I know we didn't part on the best of terms."

"No, we didn't. I know it must seem like an age to you, but I sometimes still remember…" she paused. "I want you to know that I forgive you."

"Forgive me?" Liara looked at me sadly.

"For holding onto your secrets, for not trusting me. I've come to realize over my time as an information broker the power a secret can hold. It would be hypocritical of me to hold it against you now, though that doesn't diminish how much it hurt back then."

"I guess we've both had to change," I admitted, "Sometimes… I don't like what I might be changing into. I may not have been a farmer, you know, really, but I was never a soldier."

"We were both so young back then," Liara agreed, "but no matter what mantles we might shrug on in order to beat back the reapers, it won't change us, not really. At least I hope it won't." it was Liara's turn to look away.

"Do you ever wish that you'd never gone to Therum, never got caught up in this?" I asked. Long buried questions were starting to bubble up under the layers I'd built during my fights with the strange denizens of this alien galaxy.

"Not for a minute. I was sheltered. Yes, I enjoyed my research, but this, this is something else, something important. I wouldn't go back into the caves and ruins if I could spend the rest of my days comfortably exploring them." She spoke without uncertainty. It was a tone I wished I could echo. "Do you regret meeting the Commander on Eden Prime? I here reconstruction is going well there, you could have been quite comfortable after the attack had past."

"Sometimes…" I began, but I was interrupted by the flash of my Omni-tool, a signal that one of the team was trying to make contact. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

"Of course," Liara's face reshaped itself into one of serene confidence, "I'll send you the data I have on Shadow Broker operations." I stood and gave her an awkward smile. As the doors to her office slid shut behind me, I forced myself to bury the strange sense of homesickness and confusion and drew a deep shuddering breath. Once centered, I brought up my communicator.

"This is Liddle, what's the situation."

* * *

Author's Notes:

This was a fairly tough chapter for me. I'll be the first to admit that this kind of emotional writing is not my strong suit, so just pretend that that last third is backed by Bioware Brand Sad Piano. Hope you all enjoy, and that you come back again to see the next installment.

Phygmalion+NonSolus: Thank you for saying so. I figured since Zaeed is known to have trained the Blue Suns back in the day and Suns have that whole Roman Legion deal going on, it made sense to have a codex floating around. That and Zaeed's training methods more closely match those of a blacksmith than those of a sculpturer.


	25. Chapter 25: Runaway Justicar

Interloper 2: Chapter 25

"This is Liddle, what's the situation?" the communique identified the sender as Garrus. "Garrus?"

"Here," Garrus sounded out of breath, "our friend the Justicar has flown the coop. I tracked her down to a police transport on its way to the northern district. From the sound of the reports the transport just went down due to 'internal failures.'"

"So Samara's on the move? Do you have eyes on her?" I moved the voice chat window aside and began patching Shepard into the conversation.

"No, not exactly," the turian admitted, "but an asari Justicar isn't exactly what you'd call subtle. The trail of wreckage leads to a local warehouse."

"Liddle, Garrus, this is Shepard. Just to confirm, you said that Samara's escaped and holed herself up in a warehouse somewhere."

"Not quite, Commander," Garrus said, "I don't think she's hiding. If the trail she's left is anything to go by, she's pursuing."

"I see," Shepard pondered for a moment, "Okay, gather the team at this warehouse. I'm currently tied up with some independent investigations, so Liddle's going to be in charge. No arguing." She cut off my half formed objection. "Bring in Romano and her mechs if you have to. Shepard out." The commander closed her commlink. Garrus and I traded shrugs.

"I guess you're in charge now," Garrus said, "any orders, _sir_?" his little verbal jab at the end was in good humor, but his voice held the subtle hints of disappointment.

"You're going after the Justicar?" Liara had come out of her office while I had been talking. "Hello, Garrus." She addressed the turian through my Omni-tool.

"Hi, Liara," Garrus nodded politely, "so what's the plan, Deputy."

"Stake out the warehouse, don't intervene unless it looks like the Justicar is going to get herself killed. And call up Liz, have her bring a few additional mechs down from the _Normandy_."

"On it," Garrus nodded before signing off, leaving me alone with Liara again. The asari repeated her question.

"Yes, Cerberus wants Samara on board. You didn't know that?" I asked, somewhat amused. Liara flushed a little before recovering.

"The _Normandy _might have operational security like a sieve, but occasionally some bit of data doesn't reach me. I'm not all knowing. But if you're going after Samara, I want you to take one of my operatives with you. A Justicar's Code makes her predictable, but it also makes her dangerous if cornered."

I glanced over to the faux receptionist. The operative regarded me coolly, at a distance, but said nothing. Liara followed my gaze and laughed lightly.

"Not the operative I had in mind, my assistant is a capable administrator, but not one for fighting. I was thinking of someone else. I believe the two of you have met." The air behind me shimmered and there was the breaking glass sound of a falling barrier. Suddenly a second shadow joined my own on the office floor.

"Why hello, Yellowjacket." The voice was familiar, electronically masked. It was the voice from the Citadel, the one who had slipped me the Shadow Broker's codes. I turned slowly to face Liara's operative, finding a shorter woman in a dark hood. Short strands of inky black hair framed a narrow face set with dark eyes and tattooed lips. The figure smiled a small, mischievous smile and pressed something into my hand. I looked down to find a small metal spoon. "To go with your collection," she said, in mildly accented English.

"My assistant, Kasumi Goto," Liara filled in.

"Miss Goto," I said in genuine surprise, "the master thief? And did you just call me… You knew?" I asked Liara, who had the decency to look apologetic.

"I have been aware for some time; you've made a habit of drawing attention to yourself. We can talk later, if a Justicar's on a rampage, you won't have long to catch up with her before the local law enforcement will make their presence felt."

* * *

A rented aircar carried us swiftly to the warehouse where Garrus was stoically keeping watch. I kept tabs on the situation via extended Omni-tool as the other occupant of the car, the Japanese master thief and agent of Liara spoke at length about the familiar story of her mission to the holdings of Donovan Hock. The heist had apparently gone down without Shepard's or Cerberus' backing, Liara stepping in to take the young woman under her wing. Kasumi had been certain that Liara was only after the data stored in her late lover's greybox, but had decided that her share of the loot from Hock's treasure vaults had been more than enough to buy her loyalty.

"And that's when I signed on to run with T'Soni," Kasumi finished.

"Hmm?" I responded distractedly. A secure feed from Liara's office was dumping the blueprints of the warehouse that Samara had last been seen entering. The space was wide and open, at least in plan, but that meant little for available cover in the room. That would rely on exactly what was stacked up at the present time. From the lease on the building, it would be filled with mining equipment, but in Ilium's lax corporate law environment, that couldn't be taken as gospel truth. What Liara's feed did assert with some conviction was that the building had no ties to the Eclipse mercenary band, nor had it been used for any kind of illicit red sand smuggling. That tidbit would have to be filed away for later analysis, the priority now was figuring out what we _would_ be facing in there.

To that there was little evidence. As far as I knew, this was a legitimate place of business.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Kasumi said, sounding bored. She twisted in her seat to better face me. "So what's your deal? I mean, farmer to war hero, to information broker, that's a bit of a stretch." Her tone had become more inquisitive.

"I just get lucky, I guess. Sometimes the right information just falls into my hands," I said evasively.

"No one is that lucky," she replied, "I've seen some of the 'right information' that falls into your hands. Inside info on the Quarian Admiralty Board, tip offs on Batarian terrorist cells, and yet next to nothing on the morbid details of local politicians. No dirt on your enemies. It's like you're all A-Game and none of the bread and butter of Information brokering. Frankly I'm surprised you've lasted this long." The thief turned away, bringing a gloved finger nail up to her eyes for inspection. I sat silently for a time, trying to come up with some kind of defense for her observations.

"You know what I think?" Kasumi moved her focus back on me again, moving in close. "I think you're more important to all this than you let on." Below her hood, dark eyes stared, sharp as scalpels. Her visual dissection ended abruptly. "Ooo, is that the warehouse? Looks expensive." My eyes slammed forwards. The target building was of a much more opulent architecture than the word "warehouse" would suggest; its façade was almost ostentatious. A data pulse from Garrus' position pulled the air car down on an automated descent just past Garrus' position. The narrow air car wobbled as it sunk into the deep canyon just before the warehouse's front plaza. Garrus had taken up his stakeout atop a nearby parking tower.

"Took you long enough," he said tersely, eyes still intently glued to the warehouse across the way, "Just waiting for that mech support now." We settled into a restless watching pattern. Garrus remained locked to his rifle scope, scouting the building. Kasumi paced quietly, slipping into and out of her cloak in response to the various sounds that echoed through the open building. I kept my eyes on the sky, awaiting the arrival of the white and yellow painted shuttle. At long last, the snub nosed transport made an appearance, dipping out of the heavy streams of traffic to idle to a stop beside the building. The gantry hatch popped open, revealing an out of breath Elizabeth Romano. The girl wore armour that looked hastily and inexpertly strapped on. Her arms held a stack of mobile transmitting equipment. She blew a loose strand of hair from her face as we stared at each other.

"I brought the mechs," she said cheerily. The silent security units stood statue like behind her, "I brought guns too."

"Any armour? We've only got our low impact gear," I took some of the transmitter equipment from her arms.

"I, uh, no," Liz said sheepishly.

"You're kidding, right?" Garrus asked, his eye finally leaving the warehouse. The group moved in close to the landed shuttle. "This low impact stuff is good against a pistol shot or two, but we don't know what we'll run into in there."

"Guys," I cut through the argument, "We'll just have to go in light, keep on our toes. We'll stay behind the mechs for cover. Arm up, we move in ten." Garrus backed down after a short staring contest.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said, collapsing his light scout rifle and stowing it aboard the shuttle. He withdrew a more powerful Viper and stamped away to resume his watch. Liz offered some murmured thanks and an embarrassed smile before moving off to set up her control center. I followed, setting down the pile of electronics. I left her to assemble her computers and returned to equip myself. I drew a short barreled sub machine gun, a Tornado by the markings. The weapon was skeletal, as if unfinished, but the action worked and the weapon's on-board VI registered it as fully operational.

"Any plan on how we're getting in?" Kasumi leaned against the shuttle's hull. In her own hands was the distinctively shaped M-12 Locust, a wide compound suppressor/flash hider module mounted on the barrel.

"Garrus doesn't see any guards, but scans of the building show a number of dark spots, likely shielded rooms. The closest to the outside I right here, just below the roof. If we take the shuttle in and land here, we shouldn't have far to go before we find something that'll explain why our fugitive Justicar paid this place a visit."

"You know, I wouldn't normally volunteer like this, but if your Shepard really needs this asari on her team, I could scout ahead under cloak. I'm a pretty good hacker, quieter too."

"That'd help. I don't want you moving too far ahead though, stay within support range."

"Aw, that's sweet," Kasumi said jokingly, "Don't you worry about little old me." She shimmered, and she was gone. I blinked away the flash of her activating cloak and turned to the rest of the team.

"Alright, let's get this operation moving."

* * *

The shuttle swooped in on the roof of the warehouse, bouncing along on the lowest possible power setting to cut down on noise. Kasumi detached herself, falling like a shadow even in the broad daylight. She landed in a roll and was gone from sight. By the time Garrus put the shuttle down carefully on the roof, she had disappeared into an access point.

"Communications check," I said quietly into the commlink as I debarked onto the windblown top surface of the warehouse. My team checked in, one by one. Liz's mechs clomped down the ramp, four in all, and moved to take up positions overlooking the landing area.

"All Clear," Garrus reported. I nodded.

"Ms. Goto, what does our entry look like?" I asked our forward scout. She replied in a voice just above a whisper.

"It's real dark in here; I'm not seeing any windows or other openings. Whoever owns this place appreciates their privacy. From the sway I'm getting in the floor, I'd say we're dealing with a suspended level above the main warehouse level."

"Alright, be prepared to move ahead towards the first dark zone, we're coming in." I didn't wait for a reply and signaled the team to move in. Two of the mechs took the lead, their gleaming white armour catching the violet sun. They disappeared into the darkened hallway ahead of Garrus, who followed shortly, rifle raised. Then it was my turn. I dropped into the dark hole. My boots contacted, hard. I rose, flicking on the light on my SMG. The light played over a dark metal corridor, rectangular in shape. Kasumi had been right; the floor did have an almost imperceptible wobble to it. Behind me the rear two mechs made their noisy entrance.

"I'm at the first dark zone," Kasumi reported, "There's not much here, just, wait a minute. Looks like there's an extranet hook up. Pretty heavy duty."

"Why would someone want to hide an extranet hook up?" I asked. Garrus was quick with the answer.

"A hook up this size isn't the kind of thing you put in for a little recreational skimming. Back on the Citadel, we'd have to run down this kind of thing all the time. A link that big throws a pretty big splash on all the standard scans. Whoever lives here _really _appreciates their privacy."

The exploration of the warehouse continued. Kasumi had gone silent, moving ahead stealthily along the darkened corridors. The entire party had descended into an eerie silence, the only sound that filled the air around us was the clomping of metal shod feet, and the whirring of servos as the mechs advanced ahead of us.

"Hey, Liddle," Kasumi radioed in, "I'm coming up to the second shielded area. Looks like an accessway to the lower level. The hatch is locked down tight, but I think I can get through."

"Solid copy, get that hatch open, we're coming to you." We increased our speed through the dark space. Soon all that could be heard was the steady beating of feet on steel. The hallway rocked slightly underfoot. A steady sway. We past the first dark zone, heading for the accessway. We turned the corner to find Kasumi still hunched over the hexagonal hatch down to the lower level.

"Ah, Liddle, just in time. I've almost got it…" the hatch chirped before popping open. "There we are, there isn't a lock that can keep me out for long." In one fluid motion, she pulled the hatch open and dropped inside.

* * *

Author's Notes:

The reveal that Liara knows all about Liddle's little side business was supposed to have a little more impact, but I guess I just ran out of space. The consequences will be much more fleshed out over the next few chapters, you can count on that. This whole Ilium segment is shaping up to be very dialogue heavy.

Subsider34: Thanks for the review. I enjoyed writing Liara's reveal a lot, I felt the whole office cover was more realistic for a prominent information broker. Which is part of why I changed her lines. the original was a nice callback to the first game, but it's been done. This fic is all about the little changes. On the Liara/Liddle front, the relationship _is_ uncertain. Don't worry though, they'll be seeing each over more throughout the fic.

Tempest86: Grunt/Furst will definitely be making more appearances. If all goes according to plan, he should be turning up in the near/mid future. I have big plans for his/Okeer's arc.

Satrab: The Liddle loyalty mission is a concept I haven't quite wrestled to the ground yet. Odds are there'll be an equivalent mission centered around him.


	26. Chapter 26: Feeder in the Dark

Interloper 2: Chapter 26

"Goto, what do you see?" the question went unanswered for a long time. The rest of the team waited at the mouth of the hatch, watching and waiting. Finally, a small voice echoed up through the opening.

"Big room. I was right about the upper level; looks like someone hung one of those colonial prefabs from the ceiling. There's another section, looks about five, maybe seven meters square. It's set apart from the rest of the complex."

"Is it in one of our dark zones?" I asked, bringing up the blueprints on my Omni-tool. There was a zone almost dead center inside the building.

"I think it'd safe to say so. I'm going to investigate." There was the telltale sign of her cloak activating.

"Wait, Kasumi is it?" Garrus called, "where does this hatch lead?"

"The ladder ends on a suspended catwalk, there's a whole mess of it up here." Kasumi said shortly. Garrus nodded and slung his rifle. He approached the hatch cautiously, peering down into it to judge distances before swinging a leg up and over. The turian disappeared into the dark opening in a whirl of grey. The scraping sound of his descent disappeared into the unlit warehouse. There was a clunk and a scuffle as he dismounted the ladder and the slightest whine of an activating rifle.

"Looks clear, come on down," he reported. I shot a nod to the nearest mech and mounted the ladder myself. The cold steel shivered ever so slightly under my boots as I quickly climbed down. A mild draft filled the dark warehouse, coming up from beneath as I descended. My heart seized for a second as my boot came down on open air. White knuckled, I gripped the ladder, searching with outstretched toes for the catwalk below. Finding nothing, I withdrew. I took a deep breath and let go of the ladder. I fell only a short distance, landing awkwardly. Garrus caught a hold of my shoulder from behind, steadying me.

"Watch out there, it's a long way down."

"Thanks for reminding me," I shot back. The thin catwalk stretched out on both sides, running a short distance away from the warehouse walls. From there it stretched out like a spider's web, connecting all the disparate parts of the suspended level. Below, the warehouse floor spread out in shadowy avenues of stacked crates, with what looked like several shipping containers pulled together, creating a sort of spread out compound in the center. The height of the whole fragile-looking apparatus left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Above us, there was a whirr and a creak as the first mech attempted to go down the ladder.

"There's a pretty good field of vision from up here," Garrus noted. I nodded, forcing my mind to more productive pursuits than calculating exactly how much it would hurt to hit the ground should I fall. From this position a man could watch both our exit and the catwalks above, while still maintaining eyes on the warehouse floor.

"You're right. I want you posted here, securing a retreat path and as our eye in the sky. I'll keep a mech here to watch your back."

"What, and stay out of harm's way, tucked up here in the rafters and out of the fight?" Garrus said in an amused tone. "Alright, you've talked me into it." He settled down and sighted in on the suspended structure that Kasumi had identified as one of the shielded areas of the warehouse. "Hold on a second, I think our new friend has made her way to the dark zone." Surely enough, a door on the side slid open on the structure of its own accord.

"Empty," the master thief reported, "well, empty of people. There's a lot of trash piled up in here, looks like my old housing back in college. Someone's been living here for a while. Or several someones." There was a rustling of something. "Mmm, asari take out, you know, there's a great place…"

"Let's stay on task," I interrupted, "can you find anything that might identify who was living here. Maybe we can figure out why the Justicar suddenly jumped ship and came here."

"Your loss, it's T'Soni's favourite. Okay, let's see what we've got here." More rustling as the mech dropped onto the catwalk. It stepped noisily out of the way to make room for the next, which came down beside it. "I'm not seeing anything special, just a lot of food. Whoever does live here isn't hurting for cash, I can tell you that. They are hurting for a good taste in music though, ugh. Expel 10, who listens to that?"

"So it looks like this place is a dead end. Okay, one more place to look. We're going to have to go down to the ground floor." I scanned the catwalk for a route down, spying a narrow set of stairs that led down into the gloom.

"I'm on it," Kasumi said. Her voice was muffled, as if she had just finished chewing something. The final mech dropped to the deck. All four now stood in a loose ring.

"Liz, post a mech up here with Garrus. Bring two more down the stairs with me; I'm going to want some cover."

"And the last one?"

"Send it on walkabout. I don't want anyone sneaking around up here without us knowing about it." One of the white clad mechs sprung to action, turning a precise corner and stomping off down the catwalk. I took the opposite route, heading towards the downward path. Behind me the two mechs followed in close formation.

* * *

"I'm on the ground floor now, Liddle," Kasumi said. However nosy the master thief could get, she was definitely fast on her feet. "It's pretty dusty down here, a lot of this equipment looks like it hasn't been used for a good year or two. Wait, what's this?" her voice had taken an almost worried tone. "We've got a body here. Asari." A cold feeling coiled in my gut. Already the crushing feeling of failure rose to paralyze me.

"Is… is it the Justicar?" I said with a suddenly dry mouth.

"I don't think so, whoever she is, she's way too young to be a Justicar. Woah!"

"What's going on, Goto?" I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the noise I made. The mechs were barely able to keep up.

"She's…. smiling. Like, creepy stepford smiling. Definitely dead though."

"Something is wrong here," Garrus said nervously. Something pushed at the borders of my mind, something maddeningly familiar about the situation. The music, the brain dead asari, but it couldn't be…. My train of thought was derailed by a stuttering sound that drifted out of the darkened building. The distinctive tattoo of gunfire. The flash of the weapon lit up the dark in the direction of the central container complex.

"Shots fired," came Garrus' redundant alert, "eighty meters forward of your position, on your left. Trying to get a good sight picture…" the turian trailed off as he scanned the dark room. The shots also spurred me to action. Almost on autopilot, my mind still clouded with guesses and second guesses, my boots rapped out a quick run on the concrete floor. The beat of my feet on floor filled my ears as I rushed to investigate the shooting. Blood rushed in my ears, my rapid heartbeat fuelled by the adrenal injectors installed in my combat harness. If there was fighting going on, I was going to be in the middle of it. Several missions without real action had left me itching to get stuck back in.

Something rolled into my peripheral vision. Something round, cylindrical. My mind busy, it wasn't until too late that I identified it. The flashbang exploded in an actinic flash and a thundering boom. While the headgear we all wore shielded us somewhat against the deafening crack, the combat goggles, they did nothing for the flash. I stumbled, disorientated into a stack of crates. Harsh voices began to shout from neighboring avenues. I fired a quick burst in their general direction and blinked rapidly to try and clear the frozen after images and bright spots of light. On the edge of my battered hearing, I could hear the ping of rounds off of kinetic barriers. Squinting against the after images, I could barely make out two mechs standing against the torrent of fire. I leaned back heavily on the crate and shook my head to clear it.

"Come on, you're going to get yourself killed," a soft voice called from behind me, followed by invisible hands that grasped at my vest, pulling me back into an alleyway in the stacked equipment. Kasumi reappeared into view. "Ooh, flashbang, that's rough. Good thing you had your plastic pals with you." I looked to the mechs with returning vision. They still stood their ground, firing their short barreled Shuriken machine pistols in a wild suppressing pattern. I blinked back the last of the bright spots.

"Who's attacking us?" I croaked out.

"I don't know, but they sound pissed," Kasumi replied. I strained to hear what the hoarse voices were shouting. In the din of battle, it was hard to pick out any one distinctive shout, but even in the racket that had descended on the warehouse, a few snatches could be heard above the others.

_You won't get away with this!_

_We know you're in here!_

_You won't get away with hiding that monster here anymore!_

The voices continued to ring out. The familiar pushing was back. A monster? The music, the blank faced asari, the monster…

"Morinth," I muttered under my breath. It was the only thing that made sense. And it explained why whoever was out there attacked with such ferocity. _What have I blundered us into?_

"Who the heck is Morinth?" Kasumi spoke. I started, the open channel momentarily forgotten.

"Doesn't matter, we need to get to that compound, now. If Samara is here hunting who I think she's hunting, there's a good chance she'll be overmatched, especially with these other guys running around." Kasumi looked skeptical, but relented after a round whizzed past the barrier mechs.

"Alright, cover me, I'll move ahead to scout a clear path." I nodded. I rose from behind the now ruined crates and fired a long, chattering burst from my submachine gun. Kasumi ducked out in a flash of invisibility. "Coast is clear, move to your left."

I followed her direction, making sure to keep as low as possible without sacrificing speed. Twice stray rounds managed to catch up to me. They impacted painfully on my kinetic barriers, but both times they failed to penetrate. "Next right," Kasumi whispered in my ear. I jogged in that direction, narrowly avoiding crashing into another trio of the unknown attackers. They gave a shout and raised their weapons. I ducked and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a pulse of kinetic rounds. One of the mechs following me was not so lucky. Shots tore through fatigued barriers and struck iridescent sparks off the reflective armor plating. The plating, however, was designed to resist the heat and light of lasers, and the kinetics soon tore ragged holes in the unfortunate drone. But its sacrifice gave us space to breath. With the remaining mech at my back, I dashed down the new path, ever closer to our goal. Liz swore over the link as the left behind mech's overworked systems detonated with a thump.

"Not far now, hang a left," Kasumi directed. I followed, turning a corner to find the thief already stacked up on the entrance to the container complex. "You ready?"

"Always," I grinned, heart pounding furiously. The feeling of standing in the center of the hurricane felt disturbingly like home. "We go on my signal. One…. Two…

* * *

The compound was dark, bereft of the wild lightning storm flashes of the battle outside. The attackers had apparently found something else to shoot at, because the fire still echoed in the furthest reaches of the warehouse as the double container doors closed shut behind us. The damaged sentinel mech stood forlornly outside. "Lights on," the whispered command brought a pair of gun mounted lights to life. Their thin beams panned across the room, revealing little. Somewhere in the darkness, something moved, just out of sight.

"Justicar Samara?" I called, advancing into the room. The still air yielded no answer. Something brushed against my foot. I spun, aiming at the floor. A dead asari lay in an expanding pool of blueish blood. Obvious wounds adorned her slender back. Her jacket, now ruined, revealed an intricately stitched symbol.

"Looks like a gang sign," Kasumi handily filled in, "They're not as bad here as on Omega, but you'll still find them. Do you think this is their place?"

"Could be," I rolled the slain asari over, looking into her face for the first time. It was not the dark blue of Samara or her daughter, instead coloured a lighter shade, closer to Liara's skin tone. I panned my light back up, surveying the room. On closer inspection, the wall had obviously seen a fight; small holes dotted the landscape of the corrugated walls like craters on the surface of a moon. Every now and again one of the light beams would play over some massive rent left by biotic activity. 'Whoever they are, they went down fighting hard." There was a burst of static over the commlink, Liz's voice frayed and weak due to interference.

"…..attackers…not…..talked….here…..monster…." the link cut out, choppy and weak.

"Must be the shielding," I cursed, trying to adjust my receiver. It was no good, the link had been severed.

"So, go back and find out what she said, or plough on through to the other side?" Kasumi asked.

"We go on," I spoke before she had finished, "We're too close to our objective to turn back now." I stormed ahead, moving deeper into the compound. Light footsteps told me that Kasumi still followed. We encountered more bodies, all bearing the same symbol in some fashion. The drifts of the dead grew denser as we approached the center.

"You hear that?" Kasumi suddenly stopped. I strained my ears to hear, but only caught the slithering of something in an overhead pipe. "Sounds like someone's speaking." I strained harder, but nothing more reached my unaugmented ears. Kasumi moved ahead, crouched low to the ground. I followed. Eventually, I too heard the voices.

"….I will ask you only once more, where is she?" one voice spoke. It sounded old, not in body but in spirit. It was as deep as a river.

The second voice was higher, almost girlish excepting the use of language. It swore at length in a plethora of languages, some unfamiliar even to my Omni-tool. "I told you, you mad bitch, we don't know who you are talking about!"

"Do not pretend to incomprehension. I have seen the reports with my own eyes. Which planet did the Ardat-Yakshi flee to?"

"Ardat-Yakshi? Is that what you think we were hiding? We don't deal in legends here!" the higher voice rang in a muffled sneer.

"Very well, I will just have to wrest it from your datapads." There was a sickening crunching noise. At the door, Kasumi gave me a questioning look. I nodded, giving her the go ahead. She slipped through the door under cloak. I moved in close behind. The room was lit by a single flickering light, throwing the space into a sharp field of severe shadows and narrow stretches of light. A tall and regal looking asari stood in the center of the room, a boot resting firmly on the neck of a bound ganger. She turned with a graceful and practiced motion. There was no mistaking her. Samara stood tall in red scale-patterned plate, trimmed in a fine gold. Her eyes were heavily lidded, but sharp with intelligence. She regarded me coolly.

"Justicar Samara, I'm here on behalf of Spectre Rebecca Shepard. She wants your help in a mission of the utmost importance." I tried to sound formal, unsure of the protocol on addressing the Justicars. Shepard had been just fine addressing Samara as an equal in the game, but then again, Shepard was the well-known savior of the Citadel.

"I have heard of your Shepard, and would be honoured to travel with her, but I am currently engaged in a quest of my own."

"Hunting this Ardat Yaski thing?" Kasumi asked.

"It's a person, not a thing," I quickly corrected.

"You are surprisingly well informed," Samara turned her gaze back to me, "but none the less, I must continue my search here."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," someone said from behind us. We turned to find the entrance blocked by armed men in dark blue and brown armour. Similar men filed in from the other side of the room, surrounding us with a thicket of rifle barrels. Their leader stood in the center, helmet doffed to reveal a head of close cut brown hair shot with grey, bright eyes set in a face no longer young but not yet wrinkled in age. The human held only a simple pistol. "Your quarry is not here, something much worse has found its way into this warehouse."

"And you would be?" Kasumi asked with a healthy dose of snark.

"Commander O'Hare, Ishtar's 5th Rangers. My company has been chartered to put down the monster these gangsters have been hiding here." He spoke with the voice of hard experience.

"The 5th Rangers? That's a mercenary company isn't it?" Kasumi shot back.

"We prefer the term freelancers," O'Hare said affably, "We talked to your people once we realized you weren't gangers, I'm afraid it was too late for your mechs. We will of course reimburse you for the troubles. But we're going to have to ask you to stand aside."

"I will not," Samara stated calmly, "my Code forbids I let…"

"I appreciate your code, Justicar, but I'm afraid you've misread the situation. What you hunt is not here."

"Then what are you here…" my question went unanswered, it didn't have to be. The slithering returned overhead, followed by the thump of something meaty against metal. The grate popped off a vent in the corner. What slithered out might have given Lovecraft nightmares. It was fast, flowing out like fluid given solid form. In looks it was close to a hanar, with a long, tendril like crest similar in form to an asari scalp. I stood on four long, squid like tentacles, each ending in a vicious looking sucker pod.

"Blast it!" O'Hare yelled, raising his pistol, "Don't let it touch you!" it was too late for two of his men. The thing reached out its long arms and swiped at the mercs. Where it's pods landed, angry rents were ripped in flesh. The mercs eyes glazed over, their faces grew slack and vacant. They raised their weapons haltingly and fired on their own comrades. O'Hare shot them down with a snarl. They went limp, the monster letting them drop to the floor. It moved to the side, swarming along the ground like a serpent. Rounds tore a jagged path behind it, but none could catch the thing. Their staccato shots strobed throughout the room, causing the action to seem slowed.

The monster advanced on another mercenary soldier. The soldier, perhaps seeing his death approaching faster than he could lay in his rifle, went for his combat knife. The bright steel flashed upwards in the darkness. The thing let loose a piercing wail that drove needles all down my spine. It's forward tentacle, half severed, flailed weakly. It was not enough to stop the monster though, and it tore through the man with hidden teeth. It wrapped rubbery arms around the dying man's lifeless limbs, pulling his corpse in front of itself like a shield.

"Enough of this!" the Justicar thundered. She raised her hand in a fist, engulfing the monster in a swell of biotic light. The creature itself must have been strongly biotic, because the attempted pull caused a secondary biotic explosion, the ripples of which momentarily stunned the creature. It was still just long enough for the vengeful mercenaries to draw a bead on it. A furious hail of rounds tore into its jelly like flesh, spreading a thick ichor across the back wall. The thing flailed and dies under the torrent, collapsing in a messy heap on the floor. Silence descended on the room, split only by the heavy breathing of O'Hare's men.

"Nasty little creature, isn't it?" he said at long last, "A Nakaleem Feeder, a native of Thessia. Normally the Asari Republics keep them quarantined to a small island, but somehow this gang managed to smuggle one out. They've been using it to strike fear into their enemies here in the Ilium underworld."

"Looks like that didn't turn out too well for them," I remarked, surveying the mess.

"This Nakaleem would appear to be the source of the reports that brought me here," Samara said, "I must continue my search. Tell your Commander Shepard that I will accompany her, under the one condition that I be allowed to maintain my hunt."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," I said, raising a hand, "Welcome to the team."

Samara grasped my hand in a firm shake.

* * *

Author's Note:

Credit for the beastie at the end goes to Babylon 5, which I have just started rewatching for about the 3rd time. The Feeder was a really neat beast, plus it fit a similar profile to the Ardat-Yakshi, which explains why everyone kind of descended on this one place. So boom, new squadmate, and a new clutch of mercs we might end up seeing again some time.

NonSolus: I had originally planned for Feron to pull double duty as a replacement Jacob/Thane, but if I have the space I might add in an equivalent Character. The missing Thane/Kasumi from the team ranks is of course due to Cerberus' non-canon funding issues in the light of the Phantom Fleet attacks.


	27. Chapter 27: Familiar Ground

Interloper 2: Chapter 27

"And so this Feeder was what inspired the Justicar's escape attempt?" Liara asked as the two of us sat down outside a small and secluded breakfast shop. Now long past lunchtime, the shop-front chairs and tables were deserted, but the café still offered up a nominal service for those who wished to meet out of the public eye.

"That's the look of it," I said, sipping on a cup of Thessian tea. "Turns out she was hunting down an Ardat-Yaksi, one of your asari mind vampires."

"You know, this time yesterday I assumed both were only legends, tales to tell young asari to get them to behave. I suppose I'll have to reevaluate my stance on Thessia's mythical beasts." The asari nursed her own cup, but hadn't taken so much as a sip. "But we're not here to discuss my planet's fairy stories."

"No," I grimaced slightly, stifling a yawn, "Shepard told you about our new mission?"

"Yes, the one for this Operative Lawson. I have few sources inside her father's organization, but I was able to retrieve the information the Commander needs. Her hunch was correct, the sister is being held in one of Henry Lawson's facilities."

It was an unexpected development, but not one that truly surprised me. Miranda had been waiting with Shepard when we had escorted Samara out of the gang owned warehouse she had been investigating. The Cerberus Operative had lost her almost legendary cool as she had explained that she hadn't had contact with her secluded younger sister for some time, and that the man she had assumed to be her friend had turned out to be implicated in revealing her location. I had been expected to be enlisted to help move the younger Lawson and her family, but again those missing six months reared their ugly head. Now the hunt was on, Oriana Lawson presumed kidnapped.

"So where are we headed? Noveria?" I tried to think of places the magnate might have placed his facilities, but the process was stalled out once I realized I hadn't the foggiest about what businesses the Lawson family actually ran. Liara gave a little laugh.

"Try a little closer,"

"Bekenstein?"

"Closer," the asari gave a significant glance upwards, past my shoulder. I turned and scanned the skyline behind me. The view was dominated by a rounded pair of towers, linked in the center and incomplete on one side.

"You're kidding, the Dantius towers?"

"Now the Miranda Towers, Lawson waited less than ten days to move in once Nassana Dantius managed to end up on the wrong side of an assassin. Some people say it might even have been Thane Krios, although my sources were certain he was retired for good."

"Why would Lawson want to move into an unfinished tower complex?" I asked, sipping again at my rapidly cooling tea.

"They always were bitter rivals, and with Lawson's famous ego in play, I'd be surprised if he didn't put down at least a nominal bid. He didn't have much in the way of competition though; the salarian firm in charge of finishing construction is convinced the building is haunted."

"I can't imagine why," I added sarcastically, "with a boss like Nassana…"

"Yes," Liara was quiet, "So are you going to ask me your question?" I looked away from the towers, bringing my gaze back to the face of the information broker. From her look I knew in an instance which question she was referring to.

"How did you find me, as Yellowjacket, I mean." The question left me feeling uncomfortable, like a young boy who had been caught somewhere he ought not to be. Liara, for her part, didn't look particularly comfortable explaining her side either.

"I first caught wind that you had some dealing in intelligence from a few informants I had placed on Cook's Landing to, erm, watch over you. After the Shadow Broker hired the mercenary gangs of Omega to attack Garrus, I was worried he would strike at our other traveling companions. They found out about your dealings with the colony postmaster, Riggen. I didn't think much of it until sources in the Alliance military intercepted a shipment of flowers to a minor aide. Once those linked back to you too it was a relatively minor task to connect the rest of the web."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew, or at least warn me that I was attracting attention?" I asked. Liara flushed.

"I did not think you wanted to talk to me, let alone find out I had been watching you. So I simply stayed out of your way and tried to fend of the worst of the attacks. Your intel has some… interesting patterns."

"Kasumi told me something similar back at your office," I recounted, not realizing I was walking into another trap.

"There you go again, you talk like you know her, even though this is the first time you have met face to face. I bet you could tell her life story if I asked for it. It's like she says, you know too much, and at the same time almost nothing at all."

"I wish I could tell you…" I began, but she cut me off.

"No, you don't. You've always been a private person; you're closed off, distant. But I'm okay with that. We all need our little secrets. Or our big ones," She gave me a significant glance, "it's part of what makes you so… fascinating." I smiled at the reference. That conversation seemed decades ago now; we had both been completely different people.

"So where does that leave us?" I heard myself ask. Liara's face saddened.

"Before we parted ways, I had been ready to meld with you, to share my entire being. Those kinds of feelings don't just go away because you don't write for a while. I wasn't truly ready at the time, I'll be the first to admit, but my feelings haven't changed. I understand if you've moved on though, with the human life span…" I stopped her with a hand laid across hers.

"My feelings haven't changed either, Liara," I smiled warmly at her. She returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"That is what I was afraid of. The meld is a two-way street, Michael. It changes both partners; there are no secrets between a bonded pair. One day, you'll be ready to let go of whatever it is you feel the need to hide. Just let me know when that is, okay?" the asari grasped my hand and I squeezed back. The skin was warm and soft, and the subtle fragrance of Liara brought me back to the old _Normandy_, and the times we had spent holed up in her lab discussing the Protheans, or the mission, or the goings on of the ship. And all at once I wanted it back. But a voice in the back of my head still whispered in opposition, that it was an impossible dream, that she would think me insane if she knew the truth.

"Until then, I've missed your voice, perhaps we can be… friends?" Liara's earnest expression took some of the sting out of the words, and I couldn't help but smile and nod.

"Friends it is." I let go of her hands and scribbled down something on the haptic input of her Omni-tool. "The new security measures on the _Normandy_ are pretty severe, but I've been able to poke a few holes. You can talk to me through this channel."

"I will make sure of it, now I believe Commander Shepard wants this information," she pushed a datapad of access codes and building layouts across the table. "Good luck, Michael."

* * *

"You took your guddamn time," I was greeted by the gruff voice of the surly mercenary as I rendezvoused with the strike team. I ignored the man, handing off the codes to Shepard. She took them and regarded me critically.

"You look wiped, Deputy. You sure you want to come along?" I nodded as I shrugged on the rubbery undersuit of my armour. In truth, I felt wiped out. The high of combat had long since passed, leaving me slightly shaky on my feet. I clamped down the straps on the hardened plates, feeling less exposed behind the sturdy ceramics. I thumbed the injectors surreptitiously, feeling the rush of fresh adrenaline.

"I'll be back in fighting shape in just a moment." I assured her. Shepard looked skeptical, but she let it slide. She turned to Okeer, who had also signed on for the extraction and of course Miranda to discuss a plan of action. I stretched inside the dark green armour and tried to avoid the appraising eye of Zaeed. Instead I scooped up my Mattock and checked the workings. All green. I shook off the last of the fatigue and turned my attention to Shepard. She was still standing in conference with the hulking krogan and diminutive Cerberus officer, from the sound of it discussing using the construction zone for infiltration. I smiled at the familiarity.

Once a plan had been agreed upon, the strike team split up, each member boarding a separate air car. With constant comings and goings to the building project, a few extra arrivals would go unnoticed. Besides that, Liara's codes had given us access to the construction company's scheduling software. It did put us on a strict schedule though, early or late arrivals would attract attention. My own transport was a blue, wedge shaped vehicle, sparsely padded on the inside with minimal controls. The autopilot route had already been plugged in; all I could do was wait for my car to arrive. I leaned back into the seat and shut my eyes in the pleasant silence. What felt like a fraction of a second later, I found myself being jolted awake. Had it not been for the squawk of an automated alert, I might have slept through my planned infiltration. I slapped the alert off and blearily threw my gaze left and right. The car had dipped from the stream of traffic to drop towards the base of the now three-quarters complete second tower. It parked itself out of sight, in the shadow of a pile of metal. I slipped out and watched the blue car rise up into the sky. I primed my weapon and readied for the next arrival. That arrival happened to be Okeer, a point that became obvious when the shooting started. I swore and skirted round the construction materials. Okeer stood tall in the entrance square, pounding on a yellow clad security guard. The spectacle drew shouts of alarm, as well as at least one of the concealed strike team.

"All operatives converge," Shepard's orders came on the unit channel, jam their comms; I don't want anyone to know about this in the towers. Damn it, what happened?" I leapt up before the order had finished. More of the team was out in the open now, all but Shepard, who was the last one scheduled to arrive. We quickly took apart the unprepared guards.

"Guards were sniffing around my car," Okeer explained, "something must have gone faulty, it just drove right up to the gates instead of dropping me off."

"And so you thought you'd just come out shooting?" Miranda asked belligerently. "This is a bloody rescue mission, not a full on assault! What if they've locked down the compound? What if they're moving Oriana?"

"Stand down, both of you," Shepard ordered quietly as she stepped out of a red aircar, "complications happen; you of all people should know that. Now, our jammers went up before building security was alerted. The mission will proceed as planned. Okeer, take point." The Commander's firm tone shut down all attempts to argue. Miranda silently fumed behind Okeer's back, while the massive krogan made every attempt to act unchastened. He lumbered off, heading for the large cargo doors that Shepard had chosen as our entrance point. The Commander surveyed the mess and shook her head in dismay.

* * *

The finished lower levels were empty, apparently protected only by the token perimeter guard that had stopped our aircars outside the towers and an automated security system, a system that proved useless once our access codes flagged us as employees. We stalked through the empty hallways and half furnished rooms in silence, weapons swaying side to side as we passed open passages and offices. It wasn't until we made the transition from finished rooms to bare, skeletal walls and exposed wiring that we met the first signs of resistance.

A shot rang out, round zipping through the air just above our heads. We dropped as one and rolled to seek cover. Okeer was already up and returning fire, trading shots without regard for his own safety. The enemy fire slackened as the krogan revealed himself, whoever had showed up to stop us had not expected a Warmaster of Tuchanka. There was a choked sound as Okeer bulled past the unarmoured security guard, knocking the man flat.

"Cease fire." Shepard signaled, advancing at a crouch. Drawing even with Okeer, she looked down at the man. "Definitely Lawson corporate security, low impact barriers and small arms."

"Probably an internal affairs overseer," Miranda offered, "if my father was expecting trouble, we'd have run into one of his hit squads, and they'd be geared like Alliance Marines."

"Noted, keep your heads down and your eyes peeled," Shepard signaled for a continued advance. Again we set off down increasingly unfinished hallways until we had passed almost half way up the tower. As we approached the thick exterior doors to the walkway between the towers, the silence was broken by a piercing alarm. Both above and below, the sound of heavy boots on metal could be heard.

"They must have discovered the bodies!" Miranda yelled above the klaxon.

"Nothing for it now, team, advance!" Shepard ordered, fitting action to words. We charged head first towards the double doors, only to have them open ahead of us. In the doorway stood a squad of six heavily armoured guards. The men wore thick chestplates and greaves, painted in a similar pale yellow to the outside security guards. Their rounded shoulder pads and high backpacks struck a familiar silhouette, a primitive reflection of the Cerberus foot soldier. Their hands grasped rifles similar too my own, but sleeker, more modern looking. They didn't hesitate to open fire. "Take Cover!"

We split, going to ground before the hail of metal could rip us to shreds. The guards were disciplined, loosing short controlled bursts at anyone who exposed themselves. They moved forward into the corridor, deploying their own, glowing cover. We traded fire as the klaxon continued to grate out its wailing cry. My barriers flared as one of them focused in on me. I pressed back behind the exposed beam I had taken cover behind. The fire slackened as Zaeed opened up on the suppressing guard. I readied an incendiary explosive and fired, sending the glowing ball towards the enemy. It exploded in a shower of molten thermite. The grenade detonated, igniting the guardsmen. He screamed horribly until silenced by another member of the squad.

Only three remained against us now, slowly giving ground as Shepard led the advance. Foot by foot, we pushed them back. Another fell as Okeer pulled his overpowered shotgun in line.

Shots streaked overhead and crashed into my rear barriers. I rolled forward, dropping behind another outcropping. Another squad of guards had moved up behind us. I snapped off a few shots to drive them into cover before crying out.

"Enemies on our six!" I popped back out of cover only to be driven back down. Zaeed added the weight of his own fire to mine. Together we managed to whittle down the barriers on one of the new attackers. The guard went down hard under heavy rifle fire, rounds punching fist sized holes in the armour plate. Back in the direction of the outer doors, an explosion sent a rippling shockwave through the steel floor.

"Pull back out onto the bridge; we're blowing our way through!" Okeer rumbled. A sudden flurry of covering fire showered the encroaching guardsmen. Throwing a glance back, I saw Miranda disappear through the outer doors. I faced the enemy again and took aim, launching another explosive before jumping up and scooting backwards down the hallway. Slipping back into cover, I gave fire in support of Zaeed's own retreat. The mercenary pulled back after tossing something the size of a breadbox over his shoulder. I joined him in rushing to the open doors.

"What'd you leave?" I asked as we passed out onto the open bridge. Zaeed chuckled cruelly. Behind us an explosion tore a hole out of the hallway, reducing the pursuing hit men to ashes. Already men were setting up barriers in our path, bracing their defenses on the windswept passage between the towers. The wind whipped through the half formed walkway in a roar that almost consumed the sounds of gunfire already lancing out of the descending darkness. I dove behind a packing crate as a burst of bullets came to close for comfort. As more rounds clipped the edge of the crate, I slipped further back into cover. Shots continued to ricochet, biting deep into the flimsy construction. The telltale sound of biotics rolled off the bridge. I hazarded a move forward, dashing ahead under a sheet of incoming fire. I dropped to the ground as more guards took up position. A trio of rounds caught a foot soldier before he could drop behind a stack of heavy construction materials. The soldier fell slowly, tripping over the safety wire before pitching head first towards the ground.

"We need to get off this bridge!" Shepard yelled over the roar of wind and battle, "before they push us off! Okeer, push up! Liddle, back him up! Zaeed, You're watching our back!" Shepard barked orders from her position atop a half built side structure. She fired her rifle from the shoulder, her eyes further ahead, scanning the situation. Okeer leapt to action, again braving the enemy's fire to close with the guards defending the bridges opposite edge. I rose from my position and charged alongside him. The howling wind stripped any noise from the charge, leaving me alone with my heavy breathing. Rounds slammed into my barriers, but they held true as I returned the favour. My heavier rifle punched through cover and armour, the bright flare of incendiary rounds burning bright against the icy blue of the Lawson men and the dull cherry glow of Okeer's Claymore. Within seconds we were on top of them, and soon after past them, but we didn't stop. The first line had fallen, but by now more men were filling both sides of the bridge. A round gouged a thick snarl out of my shoulder pads, almost knocking me over the edge. Only a quick shove from Okeer brought me back on track. The other tower was looming now, a greyish purple against the fading Ilium sun. With a blast that tore the feet from under another guardsman, we were through. I flung myself into the open hallway, ducking sideways to escape the torrent of fire from the other side. Okeer rushed through, then Shepard. A third form nearly fell through the door way. I looked down. It was Miranda. Shield emitters smoking, a round had torn into her arm. Already her form fitting hard suit was splashed in a deep crimson as blood welled from a nasty looking wound. Finally Zaeed pushed through, almost tripping over the prone Cerberus officer. The doors slammed behind him as Shepard yanked down on the emergency close. An ejected heat sink welded the twisted wiring.

"Well," Shepard said, removing her helmet, "we're not getting out that way."

* * *

Author's Note:

Thessian tea is a drink almost, but not quite, entirely unlike Earth tea. Think like a really bitter mint with hints of lemon.


	28. Chapter 28: Familiar Ground Part II

Interloper 2: Chapter 28

The smoky entrance lobby to the tower rang with the sounds of those guards trapped outside. Their efforts were in vain, however, as the doors stood resolutely closed to them. Inside, the _Normandy_ strike team moved about warily, eyes on the passages deeper into the complex. Though no one had yet come against our position from that direction, it could only be a matter of time now that the alarm had been tripped. Zaeed paced while Okeer looked on. On a raised foundation of an interior wall, Miranda sat perched, arm still stained in crimson. Next to her Shepard worked to patch up the wound, her glowing Omni-tool pressed to the jagged cut that ran across and above Miranda's elbow. Even from where I was standing the sickly sweet smell of medigel mixed with the tang of far too much lost blood.

"Liddle, come over here a second," Shepard ordered. I shook myself out of my own thoughts and moved over. As I approached, it became clear Miranda stood on the very edge of consciousness. Every now and again her eyes would droop; her breathing would become shallow, only for her to recover with a shuddering inhalation.

"She's in bad shape," Shepard filled in unnecessarily, "Once we find an extraction point, I want you to take her out of the fighting." Shepard's voice was strained and tired as she wiped her comrade's blood from her hands.

"Not going to happen… Commander," Miranda managed, grunting in pain. She sat up straighter, until she stared us in the eyes. "My sister is here somewhere, and I'm not going to rest until I've made her safe again."

"Miranda, you're in no shape to fight, look at you, you're barely conscious," Shepard tried to reason with her, but the Cerberus operative would have none of it.

"Then give me something to put me back into fighting shape, I'm not leaving, orders be damned," she tried to stand, but couldn't manage it. She swore angrily. Before Shepard could reprimand her for her stubbornness, I interceded.

"I might have something, Commander,' I offered, leaning forward to apply a jet of medigel into Miranda's rapidly draining reserves. The effect was a stunning as it was immediate. Miranda's eyes fluttered and widened, her breathing deepening. Ignoring the pain that must have lanced through her wounded body, she shot upright, almost colliding with me.

"That's… strong. I feel ready though. I can do this, Commander." Miranda seemed almost transformed. A fire had been lit behind her eyes, and it burned almost bright enough to cast a light. Every muscle in her body seemed turned to spun steel. Shepard must have seen the fire too.

"Alright, Miranda, you're still in the fight. But if this stuff wears off, I'll drag you out of here myself." The Commander turned away with a sharp look in my direction. Miranda gave me a small smile of thanks and left to follow her, leaving me alone in the smoky room. The sound of boots on metal drifted along the hallways leading deeper into the tower.

"Sounds like someone else has come to take a poke around," Zaeed said gruffly from his crouched position just back from the corridor. I nodded, trying to stretch my hearing to catch a hint as to how close these newcomers were, but the twists and turns of the office building's layout distorted the sound.

"We'll send a scout ahead, if we can secure one of the elevators that run through the spine, we shouldn't have any trouble reaching the top of the tower." Shepard informed us as we joined the rest of the strike team as it mustered around the widest avenue into the building. The lights had been dimmed to a cherry red, leaving little to see by. "With Liara's access codes we can keep any security away from the controls, maybe lock down any physical access to the machinery."

"We'll have to get there fast," Zaeed noted, "They'll secure the lifts otherwise. If we move now…" but he did not get to finish his thought. Security had already arrived. They announced their presence with a burst of choking smoke as a grenade tumbled amongst us. The team scattered, taking cover wherever they could find it.

"Hit them hard! Push through!" Shepard yelled, and we were moving again. The bulkily armoured guards pulled back as Okeer led the charge. The aged Krogan seemed oblivious to the firepower being directed at him, reaching the first guard in a few bounds. With a vicious backhand, he flipped the Lawson employee back into the wall. The distraction gave the rest of us a chance to advance, moving up by pairs while maintaining a constant stream of covering fire. My Mattock pinged as it ejected another heat sink. I dropped to a knee as another clip found its way into my hand. Zaeed moved past me at a jog, grenade in hand. He threw in a flat arc that carried the burst charge past the defender's heads. It erupted in a shower of white-burning shards. My weapon hissed, accepting the new sink. I shouldered it again, slamming the open palm of my Omni-tool forward. The lightning like burst of an overload charge swept away the barriers of a cluster of defenders. A short burst of rounds followed, catching the men low in the gut. They went down and were still.

The carnage had moved further off now, with Okeer continuing his one krogan blitzkrieg. I found myself running to catch up. The elevators were just ahead now, their presence announced by a cheerily lit sign that was now almost lost in the smog of battle. I sped up. All of a sudden, a shape moved out of a side hallway. The butt of a rifle swung down and towards me. At my speed, I was only able to duck away, catching the rifle with my own. Both weapons went flying, clattering in a heap on the ground. I went for my Stinger, but my attacker was faster. My barriers flared as two pistol rounds slammed against them, the second piercing to slam ineffectually against the plates of my chestplate. The blow winded me, knocking me to the ground. The attacker round on me, going for an execution.

I shot out a quick kick, missing the weapon but catching the arm hard enough to cause a miss. I rolled into the man, gaining my feet in time to avoid a blow to the ribs. I brought my hands up into a fighting guard, realizing for the first time that I had grasped something while on the ground. A sharp bit of metal, perhaps fallen from the ceiling or broken off some piece of machinery, it was no blade, but it would have to do. I lunged inside the attacker's firing arc, bringing the metal down against his helmet. The metal thunked dully off the armour. I changed the angle, aiming for the neck. The blow skittered of gorget, instead finding a gap between shoulder plate and arm. The attacker screamed, dropping his weapon. I pushed him away, reaching for my own. A sharp burst of fire, and the fight was over, leaving me shaking. A glance at the mission clock showed the passage of barely nine seconds, though it had felt like minutes. I stooped to retrieve the Mattock, only to find Zaeed watching, quietly. He nodded and turned, leaving me to follow. He hadn't raised so much as a finger in my defense.

* * *

After the brutal passage through the lower levels, the elevator ride to the top was uneventful. Twice attempts to stop the elevator by force were thrown pack, first in the form of a remote hack, second by an actual squad of men dropping into the shaft. Now the strike team stood silent in the crowded metal box, each looking to the final checks of his or her equipment. Miranda stood at the front, her usually model looks marred by frazzled hair and a smidge of blood. Her face bore little resemblance to the normal mask of civility.

The elevator ground to a halt as the final light blinked on, indicating the penthouse level. Five weapons snapped up, ready for a fight. The doors opened slowly, revealing a wide office with dizzying views of the darkening city. The space was dimly lit by a few table lamps mounted atop the richly appointed desk. Behind the desk stood two figures, the first behind the second, the shiny metal of a gun pressed to the second's neck.

"You'll want to put those weapons down, if you please," the first said in a voice that bore the same accented twang as Miranda's.

"Do it!" I frightened voice aid, quavering. It too shared similar tones, although more subtly.

"Henry Lawson?" Shepard asked, her weapon decidedly undropped, "we weren't expecting to see you here."

"I suppose that makes us even then," the man replied, "I wasn't expecting Cerberus' lap dogs to burst into my new offices, though I should have realized that my dear daughter would eventually fall back into old habits. What's wrong, Miranda, kidnapping your siblings once wasn't enough?"

"I'm not the one with a gun to Oriana's head," Miranda growled ferally. She too had her gun raised.

"Kidnapping," Shepard broke into the conversation, "Miranda, what's going on?"

"She didn't tell you, did she?" Henry said with a mirthless laugh, "Well, allow me to educate you. Your Cerberus leash holder most likely told you how she came to be? Yes? Did she also tell you that her sister here, her replacement after she ran off, was taken from me as a baby?" Shepard was silent. "Didn't think so. You see, despite all of the time, energy, and money I put into Miranda, she apparently didn't see running away with all of the advantages I gave her as enough, she had to destroy my legacy, so she stole away her sister, a newborn at the time."

"That's all we ever were to you, weren't we. Just another pair of chess pieces, money spent and lost. Oriana was never a person to you; I was never a daughter to you. Just a grasp at a _legacy_." She said the word as if it was poisonous.

"How very naïve, I had thought I'd given you a greater intellectual potential than that. In this galaxy, the only real thing is resources. Morals, ethics, conscience, mere stumbling blocks on the way to the truth; there is only money, raw material, and the mindless masses, waiting to be harnessed by we few with the strength to turn them to our wills. You would have known that had you not fled. Though seeing were you fled to, perhaps on some level you understood. Your Illusive Man is one of us, the movers."

"Cerberus is nothing like your little self-serving empire," Miranda shot back, "We work for the betterment of mankind…"

"Is that what you work for?" Henry Lawson laughed, "Perhaps you don't understand. You've let yourself become a resource. I'm disappointed. Perhaps your sister will do better, once I get the chance to train her properly."

Miranda loosed an angry sound. She trained her weapon at her father, squeezing the trigger. Shepard was just fast enough, knocking the blast aside with a strong arm. The shots missed by centimeters, shattering a light just behind the Lawson patriarch. The man flinched, just for a second, but it was enough. Oriana Lawson gave a frightened squeal and leapt from the man's grasp. Devoid of his hostage, the man floundered. Shepard followed up on the opportunity, shooting the weapon from his hand. Henry fell to the ground with a choked yell. Miranda stalked forward, eyes glued on the man. His eyes bulged with fear, the bravado of his cause gone in an instant, the telltale look of a man utterly surprised and terrified.

"You don't want to do this, Miranda," Shepard warned, ready to knock aside another blow, "Whatever he's done, it's not worth executing him over."

"I know what I'm doing. If I leave him now, he'll just begin again, hunting us down. I though Cerberus would keep Oriana safe, but it seems even that won't keep him at bay any longer." There was a dark chuckle from where the man lay.

"Who do you think tipped me off to her location, Miranda, did you think I conjured your sister up from thin air?" A shot rang out. Henry Lawson's mouth snapped shut before slackening. He gaped at the smoking hole in the metal floor beside his head.

"You're pathetic, thinking you could shake me with a lie like that. You're right, Shepard, this man's not worth the tungsten I just pumped into the floor." The cold, calculating Miranda was back, sliding back over the feral warrior who had taken a shot with intent to kill at her own father. She turned away from her shocked parent.

"You… You're not going to kill me?" he managed.

"No," she shot back in a detached voice. She sidled over to a lit terminal. "I'm going to destroy you." She bent over the screen. "You always were to egomaniacal for your own good, to controlling. This terminal could run your entire empire, or bring it crashing down with a few well-chosen commands." She tapped out a line of code, finger hovering over the execute key.

"Please, no!" Henry said in a small, wretched voice, "I'll leave you be! Leave your sister, just don't…"

"Too late to buy your way out now, daddy." Miranda jabbed the key. The terminal flashed, sputtered, and died. "Now we'll be leaving. Have fun talking to your new creditors, I'm sure the Blood Pack and the Batarian Slavers will have some interesting ideas about how you'll be repaying them for their services. As will the Council Spectres, I'd imagine." Miranda gave her sister a reassuring smile and held out her hand. The younger girl took it, and together they left the room.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry about the delay in the update schedule, hopefully this will be the last late chapter for a while. This chapter took some poking around, especially with Henry Lawson's character, who we only really get a glimpse at in-game. Hopefully it all played out well though.

Satrab: Good Catch, looks like I need to step up on the proofreading.

NonSolus: Maybe...


	29. Chapter 29: Rumblings

Interloper 2: Chapter 29

The turian sprung his carefully laid trap.

"I've got you now, Liddle. There's no way you're wriggling out of this one," Garrus said as his squad appeared out of the innocent looking pile of rubble. "Prepare for destruction, mere humans!" There was a rattling sound and a sudden burst of bright flashes as precise rail-rifle fire engulfed my own soldiers. The rattling sound came again.

"No good, all saved," I crowed. Garrus' reaction was not pretty.

"What? From an attack of that magnitude? You shouldn't even have gotten a save!" the two of us leaned away from the holographic game table, bringing our eyes away from a simulated patch of ruins, roads, and gently rolling hills to face each other.

"Power armour, Garrus, power armour. Which I believe leaves me in control of…" I did a quick count, "all of the objectives. This round goes to me Vakarian."

"Fine, you're the best at obscure board games from your planet's past. I think next time we should try something a little more realistic though."

"Whatever you want, this round makes us even though." I smiled at my friend, who underneath the soreness of losing a competition was none the less looking as relaxed as I felt. The extra day of shore leave on Illium had been a chance for everyone to let off some steam, and an hour or two under the bright lights and thumping music of a dance floor had made the shadows that hunted us between stars disappear for a time.

But now we were back in space, the _Normandy_ rushing headlong towards its next destination with new fire in its belly. Garrus had spent his day of rest putting the finishing touches on the new Phoenix cannon, the twin-barreled magneto-hydrodynamic mass accelerator. He had chuckled darkly as he flipped the final switch and sent power rushing to all of its subsystems and hardware.

"_The next time the Collectors try and sneak up on us, they're in for quite a surprise,"_ he had said to me. He had echoes of that chuckle on his face now, no doubt planning the next stage for our running competition.

"So, Illium was… eventful," the turian said, face becoming more serious.

"That it was," I replied, "another addition to the team, and a Justicar to boot. That and our run in with the extended Lawson clan…"

"From what I heard, that was a mean fight to get to the top of those towers," Garrus said.

"You heard right, Henry Lawson had us fighting our way past some of his best, it's too bad he didn't expect us to be bringing a Krogan Warmaster to the fight."

"That and his own daughter, I hear our XO wasn't too happy about what he had to say." Garrus leaned in conspiratorially. I scanned the open crew deck, looking for any eavesdroppers. The deck was essentially empty, discounting Doctor Chakwas who sat at her desk in the infirmary, and Mess Sergeant Gardner applying a thick sauce from a can to some newly acquired Illium roots.

"From the sounds of it, Lawson was in pretty deep with Cerberus. Miranda might not want to hear it, but he might have been telling the truth. This is the same Cerberus that fed its own operatives to the rachni 'for science.'"

"It's also the same Cerberus that brought Shepard back to life and gave her this ship," Garrus replied, "But I see your point. It could get interesting aboard here if loyalties get divided."

"I'm with Shepard," I stated bluntly, "No question about it."

"I didn't say there was. And I'm with you on that, I don't owe Cerberus anything. I'm just saying, there's a few aboard who do. Keep an eye out." Garrus leaned back into his seat.

"I'll be careful," I assured him, "but I trust that Shepard will pull us through this." Garrus nodded and snatched up the glass he'd been drinking from. With a flourish, he deactivated the game table and hauled himself to his feet, "I hope she's up to it. Though if there's anyone who can pull off the impossible, it's her."

* * *

"He said that to you?" Liz asked as I finished relaying Garrus' warning to her. I had headed down to the now familiar armoury space after parting ways with the ex-Citadel Security officer. Liz, as she seemed to do more and more often these days, was camped out near the back of the room, working furiously on two of the remaining mechs. The wrecks of the other two lay in various places across the room, stripped to bare bones.

"Yup, said that we should watch out, that there might be some kind of mutiny or something." I leaned heavily on one of the few open spaces in the armoury.

"You ask me, his time on Omega's really gotten to him. I mean, on Omega that kind of paranoia would be understandable, I guess, but here on the _Normandy_?" she gave a little shrug and reached back to grab another tool from the shelf. Light arced between the contacts and she returned to work.

"Hey now, I wouldn't call him _paranoid_," I said uncomfortably. Liz turned and gave me a blast of her raised eyebrow.

"Look Mike, I know he's your buddy, but come on. The crew coming to blows over Miranda's family feud? I think he's getting worked up over nothing." She stood and stretched, arms arced high over her head.

"I don't know; you saw how the crew got when they thought we had Shadow Broker sleeper agents hiding out board, it got pretty nasty. This could end up being the same thing."

"I think you're forgetting there actually were sleeper agents aboard. Your friend worries too much and so do you. Now give me a hand with this thing." I relented, moving to help her adjust the freshly repaired mech. This particular rebuild looked a lot thicker than its previous incarnation, with new welds visible under the dull grey paint, which was itself still wet in places. In upgrading the robotic soldier, Liz had taken the time to add a few decorations. This mech now bore a fearsome set of tusks that framed its rounded head. One of its arms had been replaced with a squad assault weapon, pulled from the racks of the armoury. Its rounded form was easily recognizable, an M-76 Revenant.

The other mech sat silent and still in the background. It was done up in an olive drab, though yellow chevrons had been stenciled onto its bulked up shoulder guards. A thin black and yellow strip wound its way along the seams and edges of its plates. It had what looked like a mount for a heavy weapon perched beside its off-center head.

"You like them?" Liz asked, "When I got the pieces back after that raid on Illium, I figured they were in need of some serious upgrades. I mean, the model is really only designed as a disposable unit. This way we get fewer mechs with more staying power. I call the green one Sergeant Bash, and the scary one here Matilda." She patted the mechs proudly, drawing away a hand smudged with grey paint.

"Looks like you've put together some serious hardware," I leaned in for a closer look. The new armour was pristine under the gleaming coat of paint.

"It's not just hardware, I've upgraded their combat and aiming software, they're essentially autonomous. That and a new holographic interface should improve their combat ability." She motioned towards a patched together metal ring on the floor.

"You put all this together from stuff you scavenged around the armoury?" I asked. Liz looked around conspiratorially and flashed a wicked grin. She jerked her head towards a blank space on the wall where EVA's holo-ring should have hung. It was now graced by a thin slit in the wall and a pair of twisted wires.

"Mostly." She laughed then, a laughter I shared until cut off by the rough clearing of a throat.

"Having fun?" Zaeed asked. I turned slowly. He stood, still encased in his scratched and worn yellow plate armour. "I think it's about time we train again."

"You're training with that guy?" Liz whispered in a shocked voice.

"Alright," I stood up and squared off with the man. He eyed me appraisingly before turning towards the crew elevator.

* * *

Zaeed's quarters were darkened as walked in, as I had come to expect. What I didn't expect was to have something slapped into my hand. It was a knife, long and sharp. Considering the owner, it was surprisingly elegant, with a decorated handle that melded almost organically with a broad and flat blade. The metal shimmered with a not-quite steel sheen, another colour just under the surface that shifted as the dim light played over it.

"A real thing of beauty, innit?" Zaeed asked, "Picked it up on one of the Asari colonies for a pretty penny. A genuine piece of art." I snorted a little despite myself. "What?" Zaeed asked brusquely.

"I'm sorry, it's just strange to hear you describe anything as a work of art."

"If you live long enough, you'll learn to appreciate the finer things in life, and there aren't many blades finer than this. Mercenary work's not all blood, balls, and bayonets you know. It's travel, lots of time stuck on shitty transports and shittier freighters. You don't find something to appreciate along the way; you're liable to drive yourself mad."

"So, what, you're giving this to me?" I asked, confused. Zaeed almost bent over double in harsh laughter.

"Give… give it to you? No, that thing's worth more credits than the rest of my kit combined, and I wouldn't part with it for the price of an Alliance dreadnaught besides… No, I just wanted you to see it up close before I try and ram it into your gut." He snatched back the knife roughly and pressed another into my hand. "That one you can keep." I looked down at the weapon that I had been given. It looked like a standard pattern Alliance combat knife, a long knife perhaps seven inches long in the blade with a straight spine and a diagonally cut tip. There was a burn mark that ringed a circular hole scooped through the metal just above the handle.

"There's a funny story to that," Zaeed said, pointing with the tip of his blade. "Maybe I'll tell it to you if you live." His face took on an ugly leer and he began to circle, knife held out in front of him. I adopted a similar stance, ready for the first strike. It came from the left, a quick, backhanded strike. I dodged, countering with a quick swipe to give the older mercenary pause. He caught it in an armoured gauntlet and followed up with a headbutt. I hit the ground with a crash. I had to shuffle back to avoid a kick to the ribs.

Zaeed fell back into an intense pacing. I quickly jumped to my feet and brought the knife back up in front of me. It was my turn to attack first. I feinted to the right and came up with an elbow to the neck, following with a hard drive towards his gut. He blocked both and struck back. I danced away, and the circling began again.

"You're going to need to commit if you want to hit me," Zaeed said through gritted teeth. He came on like a storm; a flurry of blows matched by an equal number of high and low kicks. One connected with my knee, and another with my shin, driving me back. I threw myself into an attack, catching the man by surprise. My knife skittered off armour plate. "Good hit," Zaeed grunted, "But I'm not dead yet," he trapped the arm and threw me to the ground. I swiped at a stinging split in my lip and got to my feet more slowly, a little unsteadily. "You've improved, but you're not Codex material yet."

We went back and forth for a time, trading blows and short, gasping insults. Throughout the clash, our eyes remained locked, his steely grey, mine pale green-brown. Breath hissed through my teeth as metal bit through my thin work shirt. I could feel the blood trickle and seep, but pushed it aside to make another hard strike. The point caught in between plates, eliciting a harsh cry. Zaeed struck with a closed fist, then another, then another, each one faster than the next until I was unable to block one of them. The blow landed just before Zaeed bulled past my guard, sweeping my forward leg. I fell hard, driving the air from my lungs. I lay gasping.

"What's wrong, War hero? Feeling a little slow today? Not in fighting form without a little something extra?"

"What are you driving at?" I asked. I picked myself up heavily, getting dizzily to my feet."

"You know exactly what I'm driving at, the adrenals, the stims. You think I can't spot a soldier on boosters?" he placed his knife carefully into a molded leather sheath that hung on the wall and grabbed a pair of bottles from a case. He twisted the cap off of one and offered me the other. I took it with thanks as I propped myself up against a wall.

"So what is this, your crazy messed up version of an intervention?" I asked, smelling the opened bottle. From what I could tell, the dark glass bottle held a simple beer.

"Intervention? Ha. Unlike your vaunted Commander Shepard, I appreciate a little initiative in my subordinates. An unaugmented human like yourself needs all the help he can scrape up for himself on the battlefield. So how are you taking?"

"Mixed in with the medigel," I said, mind still focused on something he had said, "you're not a fan of Commander Shepard?"

"Hmm, never heard of it done that way," Zaeed said, thoughtful. "And the Great Commander Shepard and I might not see eye to eye on more than a couple of things. Her handlers are paying me a pretty penny to follow her orders though." He stopped to take a swig.

"And if they were to stop?" I probed.

"Well then, things would get pretty interesting around here. I don't see that happening though, this Illusive Man's put a lot of eggs into this basket, I don't think he'd risk one going rotten on him. That's one of the reasons he's given me leave to pursue a little payback of my own. We're steaming for Zorya as we speak." He chuckled darkly and leaned back against the back wall. The words rang in my head, leaving me uneasy.

_As long as they keep paying me… …would get pretty interesting around here._

"You're going to want to clean that up," Zaeed muttered around the rim of the bottle. I looked to the slowly seeping wound for a second before dragging myself back to my feet.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ta daa! New Year's update. Apologies for the delay since my last post, hopefully you find it worth the wait. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review.

p.s. Fun Fact: Garrus, of course, plays Tau.


	30. Chapter 30: Mud, Spores, and Blood

Interloper 2 Chapter 30

"Liddle, it's time to go." Garrus' scaly head peeked around the door frame. I closed a copy of the _Codex Caesitas _with a snap. I leapt to my feet and followed the Turian from the room. The _Normandy_ had dropped out of FTL above the planet about an hour ago. We had approached the jungle world from the dark side, invisible by virtue of our Tantalus drive. It had taken only a short scan to identify the refinery, which stood out in stark contrast from the trees and brush that surrounded it. What had taken much longer was deciding on a plan of attack. For the last hour, Shepard and Zaeed had debated back and forth over whether they should hit the refinery with a heavy attack or try to infiltrate with a faster, more lightweight task force.

"So what's the verdict?" I asked as we turned the corner towards the armoury. "We going in quick, or are we smashing our way in?"

"Shepard talked him down to an infiltration. Said it would surprise this guy, Vido, more. Zaeed liked the idea of that."

"I bet he did." We rounded the last corner; the armoury door stood open as we approached. The small room was a storm of activity, the members of Shepard's team busy at their lockers. Garrus and I separated. My locker popped open at a touch. I grunted as I shrugged on the rubberized undersuit over fresh cuts and bruises. The armour plates went on one at a time, clasps and buckles tightening it down into place. Finally, the combat harness went on over the top. I grabbed two extra canisters of thermal clips and slipped them into their places before moving on to grab additional ammo blocks: one in tungsten and one in hardened incendiary jelly.

The team was silent as they pulled together their gear. Garrus hung back, testing the weight of a newly upgraded sniper rifle. Feron anxiously shifted weight from leg to leg while the newest addition to the squad, Justicar Samara stood coldly apart. She regarded the rest of the team with a critical eye, as if measuring each member of the team. Her lips formed a straight line, unbroken by smile or frown.

"Alright, team, here's our game plan." Shepard stormed in with armour already belted up to around her waist, leaving the undersuit exposed up to where it clasped at her throat. "The target is one Vido Santiago, head of the Blue Suns mercenary group. We've faced these guys before, so we know what to expect. Our opponents are going to be quick to react, and above all else, organized. Garrus, Liddle: you're on disruption. I want you to suppress their tech users and knock out their kinetic barriers."

"The drop point?" Garrus asked.

"We'll be taking the shuttle down to a clearing a short way from the refinery complex and cutting a path through the jungle. We'll keep a low profile until we gain access."

"It's not going to be easy," Zaeed's gruff voice added, "Vido'll be running regular patrols; he'll have this placed locked up tight. Expect heavy resistance: Humans, Turians, _and Batarians_. I wouldn't be surprised if he brought in a mech or two."

"Any chance of air support?" Garrus asked.

"Negative, the Kodiak will remain on station but the _Normandy_'s got business elsewhere."

"Any hints as to what?" I asked.

Shepard offered a half smile. "No can do, Liddle. I think you'll like it though. Zaeed has a few words to add." The Commander stepped back, allowing the burly man to step forward. She pulled out her armoured chest plate and began shrugging into the ceramic plates.

"Now, as the good Commander said, the Blue Suns are well organized, so once we make contact we'll need nothing less than gratuitous violence from all of you. We hit them hard enough to break that thin shell of discipline, they scatter, get all confused. Look for the marked centurions, Blue Suns doctrine doesn't leave room for decapitation, made sure of that myself." Zaeed was wearing a set of armour I had never seen before. It was bulky and rounded, and faded an almost universally dull grey. Just above the heart, some sigil had been savagely scratched out with the point of knife. The ring of plates at the throat and shoulders still held a subdued brownish stain. He said nothing off it, though from the damage it could only be the uniform the mercenary had worn back in the founding days of the Blue Suns, the armour he must have worn when his partner had him hauled out and shot. When I thought about it, it was only appropriate he would wear it now.

"Any other threats we should be worried about?" Garrus asked from the back of the room.

"Zorya's nothing but mud, mold, and blood. Native wildlife is… manageable. I reckon ol' Vido's cleared himself a nice sized perimeter. I would advise breathers though, sucking on Zorya air will leave you hacking up green muck for a week."

Shepard stepped forward again, now wrapped in a solid suit of silvery grey armour. Her features were obscured by the standard pattern helmet. Only her eyes were visible through the thin slit of glass that formed her visor. "Helmets on people, we embark in five."

* * *

The Shuttle landed with a splatter of mud; thick, grey, mud that pulled at our boots and made our planned quick and orderly dispersal a near impossibility.

"Fantastic landing zone, Massani. Real prime real estate." Garrus groused. He dropped into position behind a thick snarl of roots.

"Damn right it is. Vido doesn't send patrols out this way. He knows this land's damn near unnavigable."

"He's not wrong," Garrus said sidelong to me. I grinned, an expression that was covered by the curved rubber breather clamped down across my face. I slapped on a pair of goggles as Samara ran forward to cover the rough path that led in between the trees. At first it looked as if she was running across the mud, but a more careful inspection revealed a brief flash of biotics with every footfall. I shared a look with Garrus when it was our turn to move. By the look on his face, he was similarly amused.

The two of us surged forward as the shuttle jetted back into the sky. The ground evened up past the mud patch, but the cloying muck was replaced with thick and overgrown underbrush, which was a bizarre mix of fernlike brush and fat mushrooms that grew to almost knee height.

"How's my screen looking?" Shepard asked over the radio. My hand shot up to the comm. bead that hung from one ear.

"All clear here, Commander. Proceeding to the next point." I motioned for Garrus to move up. The Turian nodded. We splashed up the path, elbowing aside the foliage. The trek was tough, but before long we were making headway. It was Shepard who had point now, her cut down marksman's carbine swept the trees as she moved amongst them. All of a sudden, she froze, fist raised in the air in the universal sign to stop and get behind something. The short column drew to a grinding halt, with each member squatting just below the level of the undergrowth. Soon, we all heard what Shepard had heard: the tromp of boots on wet ground and the snapping of plants before the passage of at least three patrolling mercenaries. My breath caught in my chest as the brush moved off to the right.

Shepard made a quick circling motion. We crept forward, eyes peeled. On our far left, Zaeed pulled his asari knife. I drew my own, the steel rasping in the wet atmosphere. Carefully, I clicked the blade into place in front of my rifle. Shepard's hand fell. All at once, the team leapt into action. Samara was the first into the fight, biotics alight as she hit the enemy like a comet. Garrus and I broke cover, each extending our Omni-tool to scramble communications. The patrol was destroyed in moments as gunfire lit the forest. Afterwards, silence pressed back in.

"Four men, all KIA," Zaeed confirmed, "green recruits, probably their first long patrol."

"Tap their comms," Shepard ordered. I pressed forward, removing one man's helmet. He was a Batarian, his four eyes glassy under raised brows. The helmet was thankfully intact, making the operation of pulling the radio much easier. A few quick taps on my Omni-tool, and I was in."

"No alarms raised, Commander."

"Good, move out."

* * *

The first outbuilding of the Ashland Energy refinery complex could be described in one word: uninteresting. More accurately, it could be described in two words: uninteresting and muddy, though the second now applied to the strike team as well. Even the asari's red scale armour bore the sucking grey slime of Zorya.

"Looks deserted, Commander," Garrus surveyed the off grey building through sniper scope, "though only recently. I'm seeing cigarettes still burning."

"Any indication as to when they'll be back?" Shepard laid in her own scope on the boxy tower. "Doesn't look like it. Alright, this tower controls the power distribution to Ashland's bridge system on the eastern rim of the compound. Once we secure this point, we can cut off any Blue Sun response, at least on foot, and block movement in our rear."

"The plan?" Samara asked in a detached voice.

"Standard encirclement. We spread out around the tower and move in on my go. We'll push in through the first floor and then move up. The power distribution systems look to be about halfway up the tower by the thermal scans." Shepard overlaid the plan on our shuttle's overhead video feed. "Spread out, keep your eyes out for the guards."

The team nodded in concert and dispersed into the brush. I ducked low as I ran towards my position. I kept my eyes on the tower as I skirted the clearing. At the designated time, a double click sounded on the comms. I hefted my Mattock and crept forward. I made sure to hug whatever cover presented itself. The cut around the tower left plenty. While the Ashland Energy engineers had taken out all of the tall trees, the fungoids and underbrush were quick-growing and a new layer of had already sprung up. From where I moved, the other members of the team were rendered invisible by the underbrush. I got about halfway across the clearing when the top floor of the building exploded in a storm of metal. I dropped immediately as rounds tore through the upper crust of the fungal growth.

"I think we found those guards," Garrus said wryly over the radio.

"Thanks for the heads up, Garrus," Shepard bit back. "Anybody hurt?" When everyone checked in, Shepard issued new orders. "Looks like they're not going to give this station up easily. Alright, who's closest?"

"Shepard, I am within effective weapons range of the compound," Samara said. "I will attempt to secure an entrance." There was a flash from her direction as the Justicar began her attack. Dark purple light rippled and swelled as it slammed into the squat tower. "The entrance is open."

"Garrus, Liddle: suppressive fire! The rest of you: move up!" Shepard ordered. Her carbine flashed as she rose to a firing position. I took careful aim and peppered the upper floors with enough rounds to give the mercenaries pause. The deep ***Thoom*** of Garrus' sniper rifle joined my own, his accurate fire picking off the Blue Sun defenders. Something exploded as the rest of the team forced their way into the tower.

"First team's in the door, suppression team, move up!" I finished my clip and spun towards the now widened door. I stripped the next flat pressed piece of metal from my ammo canister, slapping it into place with a hiss of escaping gas. Garrus' weapon likewise went silent. The unsuppressed defenders opened fire on us again. The foliage of the clear-cut was shredded as round after round slammed into the ground. The ground became slippery as fungus mixed with the mud, sending me falling into the dirt. I clawed at the brush, dragging myself forward. Garrus' taloned hand caught me under the collar, dragging me to my feet.

"Sleeping on the front lines again, Liddle?" Garrus asked with a chuckle. We rushed forward together, heading into the darkened opening in the towers damaged side. The inside was a chaotic storm of light and sound. Rounds ricocheted off of wall as the strike team forged up the wide stair case that led to the upper levels. Zaeed lead the charge, lashing out with mounted bayonet. The blow caught the Blue Suns merc in the belly. The merc gurgled and fell, dragging his neighbor down with him. I fell in behind Shepard as she followed Zaeed in his headlong rush up into the tower. Resistance became stiffer as the mercenaries' lines were compressed.

"Grenade out!" Feron buzzed. His hand flashed out, the grenade spinning as it flew towards the densest clump of defenders. It exploded in a bright flash, throwing the men to the ground. The mercenaries had an answer to that. More grenades rolled their way down the next staircase.

"Take cover!" Shepard yelled. The strike team scattered as explosions rocked the tower. A tightly grouped pack of troopers descended the stairs, firing in concert. The disciplined fire pinned us down where we had thrown ourselves. Tungsten shavings shredded at the edges of the assorted boxes, machinery, and other cover we had managed to scrabble behind. My vision blurred as blood started to seep from shallow shrapnel wounds to the forehead. I swiped at them, clearing my vision. It was then that I realized that Shepard was barking orders over the ringing in my ears. I looked at her dumbly, trying to read the words on her lips.

_Combat Drone_

Comprehension dawned and I fired up my Omni-tool. A tennis ball sized drone built itself before my eyes as nano-fabbers greedily drew resources from pouches throughout my combat harness. The drone lifted itself on a mass effect field and wrapped itself in a bright holographic interface. I tossed it over cover. The drone activated, rocketing towards the nearest hostile target while charging a shock probe. The drone discharged with a flash, overwhelming the kinetic barriers of one of the Mercenaries. They adjusted their aim, destroying the small drone. The distraction lasted just long enough for Feron to move around. He struck rapidly, his aim dead on. The middle mercenary, the one marked by a golden oval within an oval, was struck down by carefully placed shots. The four remaining mercs collapsed as the rest of the team rose to fire.

"Clear!" the team rose carefully. The tower remained silent barring the quiet crackling of fires sparked from the exchanged grenades.

"Secure the next level," Shepard ordered. "Liddle, run a patch on these power systems."

"Yes, ma'am." I moved to the surviving power regulator, connecting it with my Omni-tool. The hacking program worked its magic, breaching the defenses in second. I pulled up the system schematics, quickly scanning for the controls to the nearby bridges. A bright spot of activity elsewhere caught my attention.

"Commander, we've got bigger problems." I moved to her side, expanding the view. I focused in on the activity, bringing up the title on the subsystem.

**Aircraft Launch Bays**

* * *

****Author's Note:

First off, I goofed on the last chapter and mixed Capek, the final destination for this particular arc, with Zorya, the location of Zaeed's loyalty mission. This has been corrected, I just wanted to mention it here to dispel any confusion.

In better news, I've picked up an editor, as I have mentioned in Vanguard of Vengeance. This will mean slightly longer lead times on chapters, but hopefully better quality and continuity. We'll have to see.


	31. Chapter 31: Mud, Spores, and Blood II

Interloper 2: Chapter 31

"What am I looking at?" Shepard asked. Her eyes scanned the readout quickly. Her eyes hardened as she absorbed what was being projected into the air between us. "That is not good. We've got aircraft inbound, people! Liddle, any indication of numbers, make, model?"

My eyes darted across the small screen. "Negative, Commander. At least, not from here. I've managed to extend the bridge though; we should have a clear path to the refinery."

"Provided we can dodge whatever air cover the Suns just scrambled," Garrus added. The Turian stood at the tower's wide window, his rifle ready.

"We need to move," Zaeed said, "If Vido knows we're coming for him, it won't be long before he turns tail and runs."

"You're right," Shepard admitted, "Alright, we run to the bridge, double time. Keep your eyes on the skies. Zaeed: air cover." She drew the miniaturized missile launcher from behind her back and slapped it into Zaeed's arms. He took it with relish, a predatory glint in his eye. Samara cleared the first floor, taking point as we dashed from the control room. There was a frantic energy to the charge, each and every one of us knew to fear the words "close air support." Garrus scratched sub-consciously at the gap between chestplate and helmet.

"Clear!" we moved out into the clearing in close order. The mulched undergrowth was slick underfoot as we pounded our way back into the jungle. The ground darkened as the canopy drew close together above our heads. The strike team moved without chatter, the only sound was the wet snapping of brush, with the occasional buzz of some insect. On particular insect was especially loud and droning.

"Path ahead!" Feron called. A small, cleared path came into view. It looked like little more than a narrow footpath, though the nearby trees bore the scars of a much wider blazed trail. Our boots skated as sole hit bare stone. The going was faster on the cut path, but the insects were even louder. And getting closer.

"Get off the road!" Shepard yelled from the back of the column. Though I saw nothing in front of us, and looking back, nothing behind us, I threw myself sidelong into the brush. I rolled before coming back up into a firing position, ready to engage foot targets. Then the nearby jungle turned into a blender. Trees, young and old, burst into splinters as fire rained down from the sky. A deep furrow was drawn into the ground as craters a foot in diameter were torn into the soft mud. Stones cracked and brush caught alight under the barrage. And then, it was gone, replaced by a deep, bellowing roar from the sky.

"They've brought in a Dragon!" Zaeed yelled over the retreating noise.

"A what?" I yelled back, trying to clear the ringing in my ears.

"A Dragon ground attack fighter!" Shepard filled me in as the team picked itself from the muck, "Those rounds will go long-ways through a Mako. You don't want to see what it'll do if it hits a soft target."

"If Vido is turning a Dragon loose on us, he must know who's comin' for 'im." Zaeed guffawed. "We've got him scared good and proper now."

"We can't follow the path! Not with that thing in the air," Garrus said, "but we better move, I think it's swinging around for another run." He was right, the drone was already back. We lurched into another run as the blender returned, slashing perpendicular to the path this time. The slashing fire exploded through wood and rock as it tried to hunt us amongst the jungle greenery. There was another guttural howl as the fighter roared above us, the wind of its passing fanning small fires set by the barrage into blazes. We sprinted though the woods. Our ears and eyes were fixed on the sky, though the fighter did not return.

"Probably gone off to reload," Zaeed noted. "The Dragon always did tear through its ammo blocks like a buzzsaw."

* * *

The bridge was guarded, a fact we only discovered as Shepard broke cover fifteen feet away from it. The guards seemed surprised to see us alive, but that hadn't stopped them from deploying barriers across the entire span. To either side, the white painted bride was flanked by steep cliffs that dove to a dizzying low. The gulf extended to both sides, winding out of view.

"Get Down!" the hail of fire began almost immediately. Kinetic barriers popped and snapped as rounds caught in the wall of differential gravity, driving us down behind thick stumps of cut trees. The mercs on the bridge moved their aim, flaying the bark from our cover.

"Grenade out!" I yelled, peeking from behind the wounded tree to launch an incineration grenade. The weapon glided on a cushion of mass effect until it broke on one of the barriers. The flames lapped around the concrete structure, leaving it glowing red hot. The man behind it glowed too, the glow of overstrained barriers. Feron saw the opening and drilled a burst of rounds into the man's chest. More men fell as Shepard and Garrus worked in tandem. The defense began to fall apart as more officers fell to accurate sniper fire. Somewhere along the line, someone must have gotten the bright idea to charge us, because suddenly the Blue Suns were on top of us. The mercenaries shouted as they hopped their barricades and bombarded us with thrown grenades. The small globes exploded against the stumps with loud ***KRAK***s.

I slung my rifle up and around the cover just in time to have it knocked aside by a charging human. The mercenary parried the bladed end of the rifle and drove the butt of his own down towards my head. I caught it on the shoulder and rolled with the blow, throwing the power into a return bunch to the chest. The blow landed with a dull crack as metal met metal. The Blue Sun seemed unfazed. He went to grab at my Mattock. Forgetting my own lack of helmet, I attempted a headbutt. The blow left me seeing stars. The mercenary took advantage of my momentary disorientation to tear at my breathing mask. He tore it away with ease, leaving my face uncovered to the Zorya air. My first breath had the consistency of watery pea soup. I coughed and spluttered, flailing at the mercenary. A lucky blow caught him between helmet and gorget. He reeled, and I followed. I snatched up my rifle and delivered it into the mercenary's gut. The blemished knife parted plates, enough to reach the soldier within. The man screamed and let go off my mask and fell back into the mud. I leapt on top of him and brought the bayonet down for a final time.

"I'm hit!" the words wrenched at my stomach as I turned to find the source. Feron lay behind his stump, oily black blood leaking from a small hole in his black carapace. The Drell slapped at his medigel dispenser and steeled himself. "Still in the fight," he breathed, though the strain was evident in his voice. As if to prove it to us, he rolled onto his unwounded side and fired back at the mercenaries.

"That bloody flier's back!" Zaeed yelled gruffly. The drone came again. This time I could see our aerial malefactor though the clear sky. It was bulky for a fighter, in the familiar split arrowhead of an Alliance designed small craft. Where a similar fighter, such as a Trident, would have two small mass accelerators, the Dragon had a single rotary barrel, almost cartoonishly large compared to the size of the fighter. The ship bore the Blue Suns familiar oval within an oval sigil and a solid blue paint job. The gun spun up, glowing brightly as it fired. Its shots appeared to form a single glowing shaft, so short was the space between them. The rounds started falling just short of the bridge and tore their way right at us. We had to fling ourselves aside to avoid being shredded. The bellowing howl followed shortly after as the fighter banked sharply, firing again.

Zaeed stood, oblivious to the metal storm around him. Miraculously, he weathered the storm unharmed, lifting the launcher to his shoulder. He fired twice, twin missiles screaming back at the Dragon. They exploded brightly against barriers too strong for them to penetrate, though the blast was enough to turn the fighter's nose up. The attack run flew wide, inch-long projectiles hitting the bridge instead. The metal was ruined, structures split and wilted. The flier banked away again, this time leaving the combat zone. Zaeed fruitlessly fired after it.

"Save your ammo, that thing's gone!" Shepard picked herself up and strode over to the angry mercenary.

"What do we do now?" I asked. The bridge had been shot to pieces. There was no way we we're walking across that thing now, the second any of us put our full weight on it, the bridge would collapse in on itself. Shepard stared at the bridge and angrily kicked a scrap of metal into the gulf that the bridge crossed. She paced as the noise of the jungle slowly returned.

"I have an idea," she said. She turned to us with a new confidence. "Liddle, do you remember your first ride in the Mako?"

"I remember…" I started. "Wait, are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"You remember how to do the wiring?" Shepard asked. I nodded, the workaround was simple. I brought out my Omni-tool with a flourish. The mission Shepard was talking about ended with me driving the APC against an angry thresher maw. Dangerous in its own right, the 'maw had had Shepard's unit pinned against a rocky hill. I had won that day by retrofitting the Mako's kinetic barrier generator to lower the vehicle's mass enough to launch it into the air.

"Turn around, I'll get to work."

Ten minutes later, the team was ready. The jury rigged float packs gave off sparks as they activated. Almost at once, I felt a feeling of weightlessness wash over me. I would be the first to test out the contraption. I dialed down the mass effect, just enough to gain some traction on the ground. With a final nod to the rest of the team, I bent into a sprint straight towards the edge of the cliff. At the last second, I flicked on the full effect. With a final push, I sailed over the gap. My boots skipped over the mutilated bridge as I flew. I alighted inelegantly on the other side. There were more scuffing sounds as the rest of the team followed. Samara was last over, floating on her own biotics. There was a series of clicks as the team tore the patches out of their barrier packs. Barriers flickered back into place as we raced back into the jungle.

* * *

The jungle was ablaze again as we sprinted the final yards towards the Eldfell-Ashland facility.

"Will that thing not just die?" Garrus yelled over the sound of whizzing shrapnel. The Dragon had not reappeared until the compound had come into view. Now it was making its presence felt with a vengeance. The massive gun chewed at the jungle with a million teeth, though through the thick cover it was having trouble finding its targets. Being one of the targets, I couldn't complain.

"Eyes front, team. We'll smash right through them," came Shepard's orders. The "them" was a small squad of Blue Suns dug in front of the compound's front doors. Perhaps intimidated by the incoming close air support, they hadn't fired at us yet. Perhaps there was an advantage to the roaring Dragon after all.

"Load grenades!"

I mounted one of the disk shaped explosives into my wrist mounted catapult.

"Fire!"

The six grenades shot out. A ripple of explosions shook the entrance way, and we were through. Zaeed turned to offer a final gift to the pursuing fighter. He shouldered the missile launcher and fired off a snap shot. The missile caught the fighter in the undercarriage, sparking off the armoured plate and exploding against the left wing. Black smoke belched from the damaged nacelle. The fighter broke off, veering away. Zaeed pumped his fist before turning back to enter the compound.

The entrance corridor was in stark contrast with the jungle immediately outside of it. The dark browns and greens gave way to a stark, grey passageway that opened to a wide multi-level room. The room was greyer, almost dingy, and covered wall to wall with piping of various thicknesses. They wound their way up towards a wide and open balcony. On that balcony stood a leering man with thick dark hair and the eyes of a trained killer. He was flanked by four of his centurions, two humans, two Turians. All four had heavy rifles leveled on us.

"Vido Santiago," the sound was harsh from Zaeed's throat as he walked up to stand in front of the party.

"Massani? I thought I had you put down like the mad dog you are years ago." Vido spoke in a cocky yet even tone. It almost could have held a sophisticated tone, had it not been hurling insults. "Shepard, I've heard of you. What are you running around with this psychotic lowlife? Now, you've made a mess of my operations here, but…"

Zaeed tersely interrupted. "You don't get to talk about psychotics, you filthy traitor!" he bellowed, "We're here to end this, once and for all!" Vido laughed quietly.

"Go ahead Massani. I'll tell you what, go ahead and take the first shot." He raised his hands over his head in a sign of openness, pacing back and forth along the balcony. "Give _my_ men a reason to put you down more permanently this time."

Zaeed bellowed in anger at the word, '_my_.' He fired a stream of rounds up into the balcony. Vido ducked, the pellets of hypersonic tungsten spanging off of the pipes overhead. There was a forceful hiss as fuel gasses escaped through holes torn in the conduit.

"What's wrong, Massani? Getting frail in your old age? Can't even hit me from that range? Perhaps I'll be doing you a favour by putting another one between your eyes."

"Burn, you son of a bitch!" Zaeed turned to incendiaries, putting a burning bullet right through the center of the expanding gas cloud. The cloud ignited, creating a blast that rocked the building. The ground shook and I found myself swaying on my feet to try and keep upright. Vido flinched reflexively, getting a face full of hot gas for his trouble. He squawked as burning fuel shivered inches from his barriers.

"Kill them, kill them all!" He ordered, running for a back door. Zaeed turned to a nearby valve and began cranking it for all he was worth, increasing the flow of gas. More explosions began to spread through the compound until Zaeed merely beat savagely at the pipe until the valve fell useless to the floor.

"Now, Vido, you're gonna die," He said with a dark scowl.

* * *

Author's Note:

I decided to keep this mission very close to the original, (excepting the gunship chase) partly because I'm lazy but mostly because I felt it was pretty integral to Zaeed Massani's character, more so than the other loyalty missions seeing as he was DLC. I have added a little to his interaction with Vido, which you'll see next chapter.

-Liddle Out


	32. Chapter 32: Revenge and Fire

Interloper 2 Chapter 32

"What the Hell was that?" Shepard sounded livid, though her voice remained quiet and even. The room shook again as secondary explosions worked their way through the pipes.

"I saw an opportunity, I took it. Now we hunt down Vido." Zaeed tried to turn towards the door, but Shepard yanked him back roughly.

"No, we sort out this disaster you've just caused. There are civilian hostages in this compound!"

"But he's getting away!" Zaeed yelled, as if incredulous to the fact that he was being ordered to drop his plans for vengeance to save a handful of refinery workers. Knowing Zaeed, the thought probably didn't even occur to him.

"I don't care about your petty grudge; this is not the way we do things, not on my ship!"

"A grudge? A Grudge! Don't you dare call this a grudge. Vido Santiago took _everything from me!_ My crew, very nearly my life, and… He took everything. This has always been so much more than a grudge. That son of a bitch is not escaping me again. I want justice!"

"You think it's justice to let a hundred men and women, workers just doing a job, burn alive so you can chase down one man? No, that's not justice. You may have come aboard with some pretty skewed ideas about how I run things, but I'm going to lay it out for you. Maybe Cerberus built the ship, assembled the crew, hell, they even put me back together. But they put me in charge. Now, I was told you were the best, but from where I'm standing, the best doesn't tear off on his own and then sulk about it when he's called out. Now are you worth your paycheck, or am I going to have to take Vido's advice?"

Zaeed seethed outwardly, inches from snapping like over-taut steel. He snarled and snapped to attention, a mocking caricature of an Alliance military salute.

"Your lead, Shepard." He stalked off towards the doors that led deeper into the compound. Shepard breathed out and replaced her sidearm in its magnetic holster. She shot me a significant look and signaled for the rest of the team to form up on her.

"Okay, we're in the door. We've still got our work cut out for us, especially given the… new situation. We can't afford to divide our forces on this one, not with time being so critical," she brought the group to a slow jog as she continued the briefing. "Samara: take point. I want resistance swept aside is possible, no protracted firefights."

"Yes, Shepard." Samara nodded, biotics already crackling in preparation.

"Wait, where has the mercenary gone to?" Garrus asked. Confused, we swept the charred room. Zaeed was nowhere to be found.

"That…" Shepard swore loudly and at length as we crossed out into the open air that separated the inner workings of the refinery from the outer buildings. Flames belched from release valves in vain, the fires had spread too far for such simple measures to be effective.

"Hey! Hey, you down there! Help!" A piercing cry floated down to us from a fragile looking catwalk that spanned the space between refinery and loading dock. A man waved his hands helplessly as the white painted metal began to crack and peel. "Please, the other guy just left us, we need help!"

"Please, just slow down for a second!" Shepard shouted back, "Are you one of the hostages?"

"They turned us loose after the explosions started, but we got cut off by the fire. You need to get to fire suppression control, or we'll be cooked!"

"That's this way?" Shepard pointed to the far left entrance to the refinery. The man nodded vigorously.

"Commander, that other guy, could that be Zaeed?" Garrus asked. "Hey, that other guy, was he dressed in grey and built like a pissed off bull?"

"He's with you?" the man said forlornly, "Yeah, he came through here at a dead sprint, ran straight for the pumphouse." The man indicated the right-most entrance.

"Damn it Zaeed," Shepard said under his breath.

"Commander, let me chase him down," I offered, drawing an incredulous look. I shrank a little under the stare, but continued. "You need to reach those controls as quickly as possible. It'll be faster if you have a diversion team working in the other direction." The justification sounded hollow, even in my own ears, but I could hardly reference endgame flowcharts and War Assets.

"Then you'd better run fast," Shepard said, surprising me. "He's bound to get himself killed alone, better move double-time. And Liddle…"

I paused, turning to Shepard.

"No heroics, I don't want to be the one who has to tell Liara I let you get yourself killed running off on some damn fool crusade."

"Yes, Commander," I saluted and dashed into the refinery.

* * *

Two rooms into the hellish refinery floor, I began to regret rushing to the mercenary's aid. It occurred to me that this strange suicidal streak of bravery was probably going to get me killed some day. I tried to push the thought aside and focus on dodging from room to room. Zaeed had left a mess behind him, blue and white clad men and women were scattered about the place, leaning against the walls, littering the floors. I nearly tripped over one as I skidded into a long, thin corridor. I righted myself just in time to see the barrel of a gun thrust into my face.

"Well, well, look who Shepard sent as backup. The War Hero."

"Hello, Zaeed." I pushed the weapon away and brought myself to my full height. "The Commander doesn't want you getting yourself killed while she moves to put out this fire."

"She can spin it any way she wants," Zaeed responded. He hefted his rifle and jerked his head in the direction of the corridor. "You and me are gonna smash these usurpers. Consider it your final test."

"Joy." I carefully looked out into the next room. The motion drew fire, forcing me to jerk backwards to escape harm. Zaeed slammed into the far side of the door jamb, three fingers held up. Then two. Then one. At no fingers, we whipped around the corners, rifles alight. I caught a man high in the chest, forcing him behind cover. Zaeed had more luck, catching a pair of mercenaries out in the open. Disrupter rounds ripped through barriers, leaving the Blue Suns limp on the ground. I opened up again, pinning my target. Zaeed moved to flank, coming at the man from the side. Then it was all over, another room closer to our goal.

"I see you managed to get that old blade bloodied," Zaeed noted as we pushed into the next room. "Nice work. I wasn't sure you had it in you." I choose to ignore the jab, instead sweeping the room for more members of Vido's rear guard. The room was empty except for a bank of cluttered tables, each one covered in a variety of dirty tools. One item, painted in dull yellow, caught my attention.

"Hold on a second, I think I've found something!"

"Not a second to lose, War hero, we…. Yes." Zaeed Massani tugged the M-451 Firestorm from its charging cradle. "Always wanted to have a go with one of these. Coulda' come in handy too, a couple of times. There was this one mission, went in with a pack of scrubs to bust up some rival cartel's manufactory. Turns out we picked the wrong building, wandered into this great big Vorcha den. I was the only one got out that day, bet it woulda gone different with one of these beauties." He eyed it fondly for a moment, mind adrift in nostalgia.

"Zaeed?"

The hardness returned to his eyes.

"Right, no time for reminiscing. Time to take this baby for a spin." He got his chance around the next corner. We stumbled into a narrow, L-shaped hallway. It was dark, lit only by a guttering flame from a shattered pipe.

"There he 'iz! Stop 'im!" Three Blue Suns mercenaries wheeled on us, weapons drawn. Zaeed let loose a great gout of flame with a sound like a rushing wind. The flame lapped at the mercs, rushing straight through their barriers and stripping their armour until it blackened and cracked. The mercenaries screamed horribly as Zaeed kept up the flame. With a pop, their barriers vanished, generator consumed. I put them out of their misery shakily.

"Ha, got them good," Zaeed proclaimed proudly. I tried not to look at him, or the bodies of the burnt mercenaries. "Shall we move on then?" he raised his flamethrower back to his shoulder and pushed on around the bend. Taking a long, shuddering breath, I followed, thankful for my breathing mask.

* * *

The next room was wide and open. The layout seemed familiar, a split level manufactory floor with an array of overhead rails. Large machines stood in the corners, each still whirring despite the chaos that filled the rest of the compound. Large tanks of fuel were stacked against the back wall, while on the sides stood large sliding doors. I eyed them suspiciously, certain I remembered something bad about them.

"Vido!" Zaeed yelled to the empty room, "Zaeed's here, Vido! Come out and face me like a man!" he was about to draw another breath and continue yelling when there was a scratching of an activating intercom.

"Massani, you always had more bravado than brains. Why would I face you on an even field when I hold all the cards?" there was a whir as the sliding doors clanked open slat at a time. Mechs poured out of each, firing blindly on our position.

"Get down!" Zaeed yelled, tossing an inferno grenade. The large explosive rattled off of a squad of LOKIs. It split with a soft *tink* before bathing the area in a conflagration. I tossed my own grenade, moving swiftly to a reinforced rail. Rounds dented the toughened steel. One broke through, scoring the armour on my chest.

"We're moving up!" Zaeed yelled, jumping the barrier with finger hard on the trigger.

"Are you insane!"

"I've been called worse." Zaeed muttered. He knelt, spraying fire. I jumped over the rail myself, hoping I wouldn't make an inviting target for some mech. Unfortunately, a charging human in dark green armour turned out to be anything but inconspicuous. Two shots caught me high in the chest, just below the scoring. The second round punched through, tearing painfully through a lung. I fell to the floor, slapping at the medigel distribution system. The thick goo sealed the hole and flooded my system with uppers. I dragged myself into cover and threw a patch over the hole. The nano-active plastic sealed tight.

"You still breathing, War Hero?" Zaeed called over. "looked like you picked up a wee scratch there." The sound of more firing drowned out my response. "Say again?"

"Bit more than a scratch," I groused, lifting my breather to spit a watery stream of blood. "I'll manage."

"Good, can't have you slowing me down." Zaeed rushed ahead again, popping a concussive round into his rifle. The round exploded with a flat pop and scattered a trio of mechs. I took the chance to hobble to the next firing position. There was a rattling whir ahead. I looked up in time to spot a crate marked in Asari. The Asari word for "caution."

I threw a round its way, managing to cut a brace from the crate. It teetered before falling, crashing to the ground. The concussion shook the room, wiping a swath of mechs from the middle of the floor.

"Tha's more like it! Wheel in from the side, quickly like! Don' want them moving back up on us." We ducked and weaved through the incoming fire, occasionally catching a more accurate shot from the odd legionnaire mixed in with the crowd. The going was slow, but steady as we pushed the enemy back. After a tough struggle that ended up using the majority of our remaining thermal clips, we at last stood before the far door.

"Fantastic, we make quite a team, you and me, War Hero," Zaeed said, clapping me painfully on the shoulder. "Wha's that noise?"

"Zaeed!" Vido's voice crackled through the intercom, lacking any of the smooth sliminess it had previously possessed. "You've really fucked up this time, Massani. Made quite a mess of my operation. But it's my turn now, Zaeed. Time to make a mess of you!"

There was another whirring noise. I looked up in time to see a YMIR mech deploy from the ceiling, crashing down to the ground. It seemed to wink, red eyes blinking on and off, before unloading on us. We dodged to the side, barely avoiding the fire. It stomped closer while keeping up a solid stream.

"That thing shoulda stopped firing by now!" Zaeed yelled, "must be modded up or summ't." More shot skimmed off of the machinery as the YMIR continued its glacial advance. "You know anything about taking these things out?"

"I think… I don't, but I know someone who does," I said, reaching for my comm. bead. I flicked through the channels, eventually catching the right one.

"Liddle, what's going on?" Liz's voice buzzed though the interference.

"Listen, I don't have much time to talk here, I need to know how you took out that mech. You know, the big one that Wilson snuck in."

"You mean the hacking probe? I just threw at thing together." The room reverberated with the mech's roar. "Wait, are you fighting one now? Mike, you'd need the probe to get that to work."

"Well I haven't got it, Liz, what I've got is an omni-tool and a really pissed off mech."

"Hold on a sec." The stomp of the mech got closer

"Any guddam time, War Hero!" Zaeed yelled as he fired one-handed over the machinery he hid behind.

"I've got it, I ran a patch to work wirelessly, but you're going to need to get close."

"How close?"

"Like, on top of it close. Sending it to you now." My omni-tool chirped, confirming the download. "Be careful, Liddle."

I closed the connection and propped myself up. The mech was close now; I could hear it as it tried to climb the shallow staircase to our position. A rocket flew by, missing by mere feet as a metal foot crashed down on the upper level.

"Now or never, War Hero!"

I steeled myself, a deep breath and a shot of stims. The world slowed as I stumbled out of cover. The mech shot wide before it recognized me as a new target. By then, I had already charged inside of its range. It brought its metal fist down, crushing the grilling in front of me. I took the chance to gain a handhold on the mech's arm, bracing myself as it pulled back its fist. I swung loosely from its arm, holding on for dear life. The mech spun at the waist in an attempt to shake me off. I held on by my fingertips, hauling myself hand over hand by the various wires and tubing that hung from the beast. With one final reach, I caught hold of the mech's collar. With a burst of static, my omni-tool lit up. The hacking program chattered as it battled the mech's VI. With a shudder, the mech ground to a halt.

"We're all clear, Zaeed!" I called, slipping from the mech's shoulder. The older man rose slowly, rifle still aimed at the mech. He smacked the thing heavily with the butt of his rifle and nodded approvingly.

"Good work, War Hero, now let's go wipe that grin off of Vido's face."

* * *

The rear door buckled and fell outwards. The mech retreated to allow us access to the passage beyond. Ending the slaving to my omni-tool, I activated the mech's self-destruct. It erupted into a sheet of flame behind us as we jogged own the short passage. The passage opened up onto bright sunlight. We sprinted through, finding ourselves on a narrow landing strip. Ahead, a shuttle sat warming up its engines. Vido Santiago stood half-way across the platform, in close conversation with a pair of bodyguards. He looked up. A shocked look crept onto his face.

"Oh no you don't!" Zaeed raised his rifle, hitting the guards center mass. His rifle blared it's overheat warning. Grunting in anger, Zaeed threw his rifle down, instead drawing his heavy pistol. He hit Vido just above the knee. The hit drove the usurper face first into the tarmac. "Didn't have any of you traitors to hold me down now, eh Vido?" he kicked Vido over, eliciting a weak groan.

"Wait…" Vido croaked, reaching out with broken fingers. Zaeed stomped on them.

"No Vido, no more waiting! I've waited far too long for this!"

"I can… She's… here…"

"Time to die." Zaeed pulled the trigger. Vido went limp, his eyes glassed over and he gurgled softly. "Son of a bitch." Zaeed spat before turning away. At that moment, Shepard and the rest of the team ran out of the passage. The team looked a mess, coated in soot and lathered in thick fire suppression foam.

"We done here, Zaeed? Are you happy now?" the flame haired Commander stood toe to toe with the burly mercenary.

"I'm never happy, Shepard, but we are done here. I'll see you on the ship." He strode past her, entering the passage back through the refinery.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry about the wait there folks, I've been running a pretty high fever this past week. All cleared up now though, so no worries.

-Liddle Out


	33. Chapter 33: Guts and Glory, Part 1

Interloper 2: Chapter 33

The Kodiak shuttle set down roughly on the deck of the _Normandy_. The strike team almost tumbled out of the cramped space, each member eager to escape the combat funk that had filled the small metal box. The shuttle had been in a holding pattern for almost an hour, the pilot forced to wait for the absent frigate. When the _Normandy_ had burst across the forward monitors, the crew had breathed a collective sigh of relief, and had accepted Joker's rushed apologies begrudgingly.

Now we clattered onto the open grille of the cargo deck, carrying helmets and breathers under arms and hooked to belts. My hastily treated wound tugged at each breath, but the sight that awaited us drove the thoughts of pain away. Parked on the deck was a new vehicle, painted in bright factory white. Black stenciled lettering proudly marked it as an M-44 Hammerhead. The pointed prow of the tank bore a remarkable similarity to the old Mako, though this model lacked the rugged wheels of that vehicle. Instead it carried two great turbofans on cross-raced stanchions, which combined with the low swept tail created a distinctly predatory look. Perched atop the tank was a shallow domed turret that mounted a short-barreled gun.

"This'll be the reason we spent an hour stewing in our own juices then?" Garrus asked. "It's certainly shiny. Where'd you even find this?"

"We received a signal, a beacon. A bunch of scientists got…." Shepard began to explain, but her voice fell away from me as I approached the bright white hull. I raised a gloved hand, scraped padded fingertips against smooth metal. I could feel the thrum of an active engine, the residual warmth of what must have been a boiling berth. It was electrifying.

"You two need some time alone?" Garrus quipped. I turned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, where you having a moment?"

"Nothing wrong with admiring a fine piece of machinery." I shot back.

"Tha's what I've been sayin'." A voice rang from inside the tank. There was a loud clanking as the voice struggled to extricate itself from the armoured vehicle. With a final shake, the side hatch swung open and a man slid out. He was just a little shorter than I was, with a close-cropped gingery goatee. He wiped grease from his fingers and stuck out a hand. "Kenneth Donnelly, I don't think we've met." The man spoke in a thick Scottish brogue.

I took the man's hand and shook it. "Not much more than in passing. Liz may have mentioned you a couple of times."

"Ah, Miss Romano. Lovely girl, very bright. She offered to work down this beut herself before Miranda warded 'er off." Donnelly continued swiping at a dirty rag while he looked up at the Hammerhead. "You'll be wantin' the grand tour then?" His question was directed not at me, but at Shepard.

"Perhaps later, Engineer Donnelly," Shepard said tiredly.

"O' course, o' course. I'll be here, running a shakedown." Donnelly saluted before climbing back into the tank. I caught Shepard's eye, but she shook her head.

"You'll get your chance, Liddle. First you get that new breathing hole looked at. Then we'll talk about who gets to play with the new toys."

The real world came back as the excitement of seeing the Hammerhead wore off. Suddenly I was wheezing again, and everything ached. I sketched a salute before hobbling off to the med-bay. The elevator rattled painfully as it slowly rose the two levels to the Crew Deck. The strike team piled out of the lift, splitting up. Garrus propped me up as the two of us slouched towards the open infirmary.

* * *

I hissed as Doctor Chakwas' probe withdrew. She clucked her tongue and shook her head and made all the usual noises of protestation, but her heart didn't seem in it. She had already patched Garrus up, a quick dab of a more potent medical medi-gel and some sutures. It wasn't until she noticed the ragged hole in my armour that she had descended like a mother hen.

"So what's the damage, Doc?" I coughed. Her steely eyes sharpened and slipped to mine.

"You have a punctured lung and a number of major abrasions. I'm going to have to put you out for surgery."

"No quick patch?" I tried to sound funny, but the line came out hollow and at the head of a series of wracking coughs.

"I just pulled this out of the lower lobe of your right lung. There'll be no patching this time. We'll need to do this quickly, so get your shirt off." Her voice was utterly without humor. I quickly complied, ignoring the twinge as I yanked the bloodied tunic over my head.

"I guess I'll be getting the lecture for this," I said weakly.

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint," Chakwas replied. "If you're so dedicated to throwing yourself into harm's way, no amount of my cajoling will spur you to self-preservation. At this point further lecturing will likely only drive you to avoid my care." I looked away sheepishly as she readied a short hypodermic needle. "Now I'm going to need you to count back from ten." There was a sharp jab in my arm and an immediate feeling of cold that spread quickly up my arm.

"Ten… Nine…" The hard infirmary gurney grew suddenly very, very comfortable. "…Eight… Sev…" The lights winked out in the room, the world quickly followed them.

* * *

"Up and at 'em, Deputy." The feminine voice floated down as if through thick clouds. Something rattled like a shaken maraca. My eyes snapped open. I was still in the med-bay, though I had been moved to a more padded recovery bed. Machines whirred and spun around me as something flowed slowly into a drip stuck into my arm. The crimson-framed face of Commander Shepard floated into view.

"Commander," I croaked. The SPECTRE smiled and poured a small cup of water. I accepted the cup and lifted it greedily to my lips. After a few refreshing sips, I blinked away some of the blur and tried to focus on what had made the rattling noise.

The Commander lifted a small plastic sample pot into view and shook it again, making the rattling sound. She tossed it lightly. I caught it and squinted through the clear plastic. Four slender shards of metal lay at the bottom.

"Pulled out of your lungs," Shepard helpfully added. "I don't know how you do it, Deputy, but you have the Devil's own luck. The Doc says that with bed rest you'll be back on your feet before the end of the week."

"Where does that put us, mission-wise I mean?" I asked. Shepard gave me a look.

"Well, you'll have to sit out the call we just got from the Shrike Abyssal. Okeer's convinced there's a Blood Pack weapons manufactory operating in the system. Says he wants to show us something." The Commander slipped around the other side of the bed and perched herself on the edge. "I don't know, Liddle. The Warmaster's hiding something. It's tough to know where his loyalties lie." I was a little shocked by the Commander's openness.

"Do you want my opinion?" I asked.

"I'll take it if you have one," Shepard admitted, "but what I really need is a sounding board. Someone I can trust."

"You can trust me, Commander. And if you want my opinion, it's not Okeer you need to worry about; it's his little pet project."

"His 'Red Sons?' I picked up on them too. I've got a feeling they have something to do with Okeer's surprise. You know, I miss the old days when things were simple. We chased Saren, we put down Geth. None of these back-alley recruitments and political balancing acts."

"Oh yeah, facing down Saren and his Reaper puppet master was a real Golden age." I said sarcastically. Shepard chuckled.

"You know what I meant. This deal with Cerberus is starting to get under my skin," Shepard lowered her voice. "Working with mad scientists and mercenaries, it's not like the old days, when I picked my own team."

"'Scuse me, Commander." the unmistakable growl of Zaeed Massani filled the room.

"Speak of the Devil," Shepard stood and turned to address the burly mercenary. "Something the matter, Massani?"

Zaeed's eyes flicked around the room, as if searching for enemies and eavesdroppers. He nodded gruffly when he found only me and the Commander. "Thought I might… thank you, for putting out the fires down on Zorya." He grated out the thanks as if they physically pained him.

"The fire you started, you mean?" Shepard responded. Her own voice was suspicious, but not entirely unhappy.

"Well, um, yes…"Zaeed cast his eyes down. "You see, I told you that Vido took everything. Well, I might have elaborated…"

"It didn't sound particularly complicated. The two of you started the Blue Suns, had a falling out, and he had you shot. In your position, I'd be pissed, but I wouldn't have set fire to a facility full of hostages."

"Yeah, well," Zaeed spluttered, "You don't know the half of it." He thrust a datapad into the Commander's hands. She perused the message, her eyebrow arching as she came to the end.

"Your… sister?" She asked. Zaeed looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, my sister. She and Vido were… involved, before he 'ad had enough of me and decided to have me offed, of course. I didn't know she was still with 'im." Zaeed scuffed his boots, as if admitting to having relatives was a sign of weakness.

"So this message says, and this is what drove you to thank me?"

"I don't think you realize. Hannah was down there, on the planet. She woulda' roasted if you hadn't a'…" Zaeed choked. For the briefest of seconds, the tough as boot leather façade broke, a thin crack that revealed a man truly afraid of what he might have caused to happen.

Shepard must have seen it too, because her face and voice softened. "Any time you need me to reign in your excesses, Zaeed." She clapped the taller man on the shoulder, but he shrugged it off, thick skin firmly back in place.

"No need to get all soft about it, jus' saying thanks is all." Zaeed stumped off, leaving us alone in the quiet med-bay.

"Hidden depths, who would have thought?" Shepard said, to herself more than anyone else.

* * *

The week on the recovery ward passed much as my previous stays had, long stretches of abject boredom punctuated by brief visits by either Garrus with some contest, or else Liz showing off her latest contraption. It was during one of her visits that the _Normandy_ arrived above the planet of Zada Ban.

"Did we just drop out of FTL?" Liz spun around from her demonstration of an assault rifle auto-cleaner.

"It felt like it." I shifted in the bed and reached for my Omni-tool. As I grabbed for it, Liz's Omni-tool buzzed.

"Miss Romano, we're going to need you to roll out those mechs of yours." Commander Shepard's voice came though clearly.

"On it, ma'am," Liz gave me an apologetic face and leapt up to go to her duty station, the cramped control chair she'd managed to wedge into the back of the armoury. I moved to follow, slipping bare feet into hospital shoes and reaching for a pair of crutches. "And just where do you think you're going?" Liz asked, in a passable impersonation of her own mother.

"I was going to watch. I'm cleared to move about, just as long as I remain 'restful.'" I told the truth for once. It was near to the end of my recovery cycle and Doctor Chakwas had become more liberal with just how 'restful' I needed to be.

"Come on then, I've got to get set up." She disappeared out into the hall, rushing for the elevator. I hobbled after her on the crutches. Outside on the crew deck, the crew bustled to and fro as they made ready for ground operations. Around the corner, the elevator trundled to a stop. The segmented grate rumbled open, revealing a surprised looking Shepard tugging on armoured gloves.

"You're not coming," she said quickly, giving me one look.

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "I wasn't going to try; one perforated organ at a time is enough for me."

"Yes, well I think all of the injury reports I've had to file might disagree with you there." The Commander finished fiddling with her gauntlets. "Romano, I need those mechs decanted double time. We've got the shuttle already warm to drop."

"Right away, ma'am," Elisabeth dipped her head. Shepard accepted the gesture and jabbed at the elevator controls. The door rumbled shut again and the elevator continued on its way to the cargo bay.

* * *

The two modified mechs stumped past Liz's command chair. The chair itself was a macabre thing, pieced together from parts that the girl had borrowed, bartered, and stolen. She sat in it now like a spider perched inside her metal web, eyes glued to an array of holographic screens. Through the eyes of her surrogates, I watched the unfolding mission. I settled on watching the screen of the bigger mech, Matilda, Liz had called it as the shuttle dropped towards the planet.

Inside the Kodiak, Shepard was giving the team a last minute pep-talk. Or at least trying to, the Warmaster, Okeer, was gleefully ignoring her, his beady eyes instead cast out across the ropy forests of Zada Ban. The rest of the team stood idle as they rode they held on against the chop. Shepard had chosen a balanced team, Miranda in her new dull greys and Garrus in his dark military gear. Together with the two mechs, the team wielded a strong array of tech and biotic powers. I reached past Liz to turn up the volume on the mech's auditory sensors. Tinnily, Shepard's voice came through.

"…so that sums up our approach. Any questions?"

"Just one," Garrus spoke up. "What is that?" he pointed one steel gloved talon across my field of view, pointing at something the mech couldn't see. Everyone in the shuttle's eyes followed the Turian's pointing finger. Okeer chuckled gruffly.

"Now you will see the power of the true Krogan!" he barked.

"Spin us around," I hissed. Liz jerked her head around before pointedly tapping the other monitor. I looked over and saw that Sergeant Bash had been pointed right out of the shuttle's side window, right at the spectacle that held everyone else's attention. In the distance, a ragged crag opened like a wound in the planet. From where the shuttle circled, I could see crude prefabs bolted onto the side of the narrow valley. Now the valley was flooded with thick, oily smoke. Larger, red-painted craft circled above the mouth of the cleft, occasionally making what looked like bombing runs.

Shepard's shuttle shot towards the smoke, miniaturized stealth drive engaged. On the flickering screen, Shepard rose from her bench to stand beside Okeer. "All right, Okeer. Start explaining." The Krogan spread his arms wide.

"Shepard, I'd like to present the might of the New Krogan. Your Illusive Man furnished me with the location of this Blood Pack manufactory, and so I came. My Sons will secure this planet and take up the work the mercenaries started."

"You mean to tell me this little side trip is another Cerberus sponsored glory hunt?" Shepard asked sharply.

"Why Shepard, I'm hurt," Okeer chuckled. His smile took on the aspect of the shark as he turned to the SPECTRE. "Glory is only one of my aims. I would have thought you of all people would see the wisdom in this endeavor."

"Enlighten me," Shepard shot back.

"It's simple, the Illusive Man knows that he'll need allies if he plans to fight back against these Reapers. Strong allies. My Red Sons are the strongest around, despite their small numbers."

Shepard mulled over his words, her face obviously conflicted, even on the grainy feeds from the mechs. At long last, she made a decision

"Pilot, take us in."

* * *

Author's Note:

It's Krogan time, boys and girls. This chapter was mostly aftermath and setup, but next time we'll get to see some action. I really want to do something with Okeer since he kind of dies right after we meet him in the game, and I know you guys felt that Wrex was left out of Interloper. Suffice it to say, things should get interesting when these two meet. Also, as a side note, I'd like to thank you all for the support.


	34. Chapter 34: Guts and Glory, Part 2

Interloper 2: Chapter 34

"Landing Zone is hot, recommend quick dismount," the pilot's voice crackled across the link. Shepard looked at the members of her team before nodding.

"You heard the man, we land, we drop, we move out. Okeer, you take the east approach. Garrus, you'll be taking the mechs up…"

"Commander, I think it's reasonable that I be in charge of this mission. You'll notice that it's my Krogan staging that attack out there," Okeer said, politely for a Krogan.

"Warmaster, you're more than welcome to command your Krogan. However, you signed on with my crew, and you _will_ follow my lead." Shepard grabbed Okeer by the collar of his armour. "The Illusive Man might have given you free reign to run your little mercenary operation, but he put me in charge of the _Normandy_. Now, you will take the east approach. Call up your 'Sons' if you have to, but do your job."

She released him and withdrew her sniper rifle. As it unfolded, she banged a fist against the door controls. The shuttle's hatch popped open and let the harsh light of the planet flood in. Fire leapt up at the small craft almost immediately.

"Let's clear this infestation!" Miranda readied her submachine gun. The shuttle scraped the ground, sending a shudder through its frame.

"Go, go, go!" the team hit the ground running. The mechs stomped out after Garrus. Liz seized the controls and maneuvered them deftly into flanking positions. Rounds cracked off their hardened shells as Garrus dropped into a firing pose.

"We've got Krogan on the ridge," Garrus reported. Liz twirled Matilda on the spot to bring its weapons to track.

"These some of yours?" Shepard asked as she laid down fire on a pack of Vorcha mercenaries that were boiling out of the mouth of the canyon.

"Not this far out, the Suns would have struck at the heart of the enemy. These _beasts_ are Blood Pack."

The Krogan backed up Okeer's assessment by opening up on the shore party at extreme range. Their shotguns sprayed pellets rather ineffectually, at least at first, but Shepard sprang to action.

"I want a quick wheel on that ridge. Romano; Get some fire support on that ridge." Shepard fired off orders as she directed her team. On Liz's rig, I watched the team fan out to meet the new threat. Liz's other mech, the one she'd dubbed Sergeant Bash, turned a slow circle to bring its heavy weapon to bear. The mech planted its feet and unleashed a short hail of high-explosive grenades, which burst like bright flowers amongst the advancing Blood Pack. The mercs were flailed by the exploding grenades, several of the reptilian Krogan fell from the heights in ruin. More began to fall as the twin guns of Shepard and Garrus found weaknesses in their defenses. The Krogan may have been tough, but none could stand before their accurate and deadly fire.

"Push up, don't let them take up positions!" Shepard ordered as she fit deed to word. The team struck out towards the mouth of the canyon while maintaining its withering suppressive fire. I caught flashes of the battle through the eyes of the mechs. Here a brief glimpse of Miranda striking down Vorcha with a flick of her biotics, there an expert shot from Garrus. In the background, the massive form of Okeer could be seen bull-rushing his way through pyros and riflemen alike.

From there the team made good ground. The Vorcha and Krogan facing them may have been suicidally brave, but they had obviously been fighting for far longer than we had been deployed against them and even Vorcha tired after a time.

"Over the hill! We've got them on the run!" Shepard led the charge, a grey blur amongst the mercenaries. Her team followed her, firing as they ran. Liz set her mechs to a slow jog, as fast as their unsteady servos could move them. Both our jaws dropped as they rounded the bulge of the hill. The craggy valley spread out below, a shear drop towards running water. It would be idyllic were it not for the running battle that filled it. Thick smoke and spreading fire blanketed the upper reaches while the flare of gunfire filled the lower levels that had been cut in the rock. Even as Shepard's team picked their way over the rocks, more fires erupted. Aircraft made near constant bombing runs, unloading a fierce firestorm on the heads of the beleaguered defenders.

"It hardly seems like war at all," Liz murmured from her command chair. "It's more like, I don't know. It's like a child stamping on an anthill."

"Try not to get too choked up. These Blood Pack types would tear out each and every one of our throats if we gave them half the chance."

"Still…" Liz looked back to the screens where the mechs drew close to the combat zone. The Blood Pack dead were stacked against the walls of their compound, many of them contorted and broken. Ahead, Shepard moved swiftly, but there was other movement. Out of the smoke and shadows lumbered a squad of five Krogan, larger than those I'd ever seen and covered from head to foot in thick red plates. They looked like medieval knights in the gloom, though they would have dwarfed even a knight's charger were they to stand shoulder to shoulder. The lead one wore a familiar silver suit of armour.

"Furst, my son!" Okeer greeted the other Krogan with a gruff yet surprisingly caring voice. The two shared a rough Krogan embrace as the two squads came face to face.

"Warmaster, the battle has gone according to your plan. Your fighters have secured the upper levels and the battle goes well in the warrens."

"Good, you have done well." Okeer surveyed the carnage before him and smiled a twisted smile. "Continue to push into the caves, leave none alive." The squad bowed their heads and turned to leave. A fresh smattering of fire flitted towards their position.

"Maybe your squad should stick with us, Okeer," Shepard said. "The Illusive Man is going to want an assessment of these 'Sons' of yours if you're going to be the vital ally you claim to be." The Warmaster mulled it over before nodding in agreement.

"Perhaps if you see with your own eyes, you won't be so quick to dismiss my work. Come Shepard, and I will show the true destiny of the Krogan." The Krogan squad fanned out ahead as they led the party down the long ramp to the lower levels. More scenes of destruction, each more disordered than the last rose out of the smoke as the mechs moved noisily alongside Shepard. Where the broken bodies had been stacked neatly above ground, down in the underground weapons manufactory they lay tangled in each other where they had fallen.

"Okeer, I'm all for swift justice, but this place looks like a war crime," Garrus said as they passed a Krogan that had almost been shredded.

Okeer scoffed. "This isn't war, my Turian friend, this is merely pest control. No true Krogan would associate with these… creatures." He tipped the body of a Vorcha into a chasm as he passed. "Once this placed has been cleansed, it can be put to good work. It's all part of my plans."

"These plans include more mass killings?" Shepard asked quietly.

"Spare me the paragon screed; I've seen your work up close, Shepard. Omega, Illium, Virmire. You might cling to an ideal galaxy, but once the firing starts…. Well, you always seem to be the last one still pulling the trigger at the end of it." Okeer turned to the Commander. Light glinted off of his impassive death mask as something at the end of the hall burst aflame. Shepard shoved past the Krogan and fired a snap shot down the tunnel. The lone Vorcha pyro burst with a pop. Okeer looked on, and for a second I could have sworn that I saw a glint of smug satisfaction in his mask.

* * *

Once the team hit the lower caverns, there was no more time for talk and accusations. Okeer's Red Sons hit the caves like an iron bound thunderclap. The first attack came from the left. A titanic Krogan sporting Blood Pack colours charged, head-down into the side of one of the flanking Sons. Such was his momentum that both were carried clean across the entrance.

They both tumbled as one lost his footing. The fight devolved into savage blows, each trying to overload the barriers of the other. Reacting quickly, Furst rushed the downed pair. With a nasty kick, he parted them, carrying away the attacker. The massive Krogan rose to challenge the first son of Okeer. He bellowed and rapped at his chest with a gauntleted fist. Furst approached silently in a slow circle, hunched and ready for an attack. The attack fell hard, but struck only air. Furst had moved aside and was instantly inside his enemies guard. An omni-blade flashed bright orange. The mercenary Krogan was opened from navel to throat in a flash of superheated blood. Before the unbalanced enemy could regain his footing, Furst clamped down both hands around his helmet and twisted a full quarter turn. The titan went wimp and was left to fall.

"We must move, this one must have led a squad at least," the victorious Son said shortly. He dragged his knocked down companion to his feet and gave him a rough slap across the shoulders. His prediction was soon proven true as a pack of Vorcha emerged from a side passage. In the close confines of the tunnel, battle had to be joined in close-quarters. The Krogan rushed to the fight with vigor. It was a fight of blades and of wicked cudgels as each side attempted to gain ground. The Krogan fought with overwhelming power, but the Vorcha fought back with cunning and with all the not inconsequential strength afforded by their wiry stature.

"Now you see, they regrow almost as fast as we can tear into them," Okeer grunted as he tore a limb messily from a foe. The Vorcha hissed and squealed, but struck back savagely. His bladed fist tore at Okeer's helmet as the Krogan choked the last life from him.

"Miranda, clear us a path through this butcher's ground!" Shepard ordered as she dodged a clawed hand.

"Gladly." The Cerberus officer glowed with a purple light. She threw up her arms in a gesture that marshaled her biotic powers. A wall of negative energy burst forth and filled the tunnel from floor to ceiling. Like a wave, it drove the Vorcha back on their heels. The Krogan capitalized and swept forward until even the Vorcha's primitive brains sensed defeat. They broke and fled before their steel fisted tormenters.

"The battle goes well?" The voice shocked me. Feron stepped into view and bent to survey the screens.

"It's hard to tell, there's so much smoke," Liz did not pull her eyes away from the screens, but spoke though gritted teeth as she tried desperately to keep her inventions intact in the swirling melee. She swore as something tore into Matilda. Red lights flickered on her status board.

"These Krogan lack subtlety," the Drell muttered, "and fear too. A strong hammer to be wielded. I suppose your Shepard fancies herself the wielder."

"Commander Shepard has no interest in a hammer. She builds teams, not tools."

"Poetic, but the truth of that is to be seen. Take yourself, for instance. The Commander has long worked to mold you from farm boy to warrior, even if you haven't seen it. And young Elizabeth here, would she be forging weapons of war had she not stepped aboard the Normandy?" Feron continued politely.

"You see a lot, don't you, Feron?" I asked, looking upon the Drell with a new respect.

"I am often called upon for the skill of my eyes," he responded humbly as he bent in a shallow bow. "Though of late, they have been called upon to aim a rifle more than I am comfortable with. Not all of the Commander's tools are made for war."

"I…"

"Mike! Take the controls!" Liz cried. I turned back to see her elbow deep in wiring. "Something's gone wrong with the overlay, I need you to keep them moving while I fix this." I bent over her work station and grabbed a hold of the control columns.

"Liz, I don't know what I'm doing," I said nervously as I tugged at the controls. The mechs flailed and stopped jerkily.

"Just hold them steady for a second!" Liz said, her words muffled by a length of chord clasped in her teeth. I tried my best to regain control of them, but they seemed to resist my every command.

"Allow me," Feron pulled the controls from my hands and moved them deftly. As if by clockwork, the mechs leapt to action.

"How'd you…?"

"I watch, I learn," he said placidly, as he directed their weapons. By the look of the screens, the group had since passed into an open chamber, where they had joined other elements of Okeer's forces. Angry red tracers flitted back and forth through the battle as the Krogan clashed with their opposites. Somewhere in the din, Shepard's voice could be heard.

"On the right! You; take your squad past the workbenches, they mustn't break us there. Garrus; more fire on that battlemaster. Come On!" Lights flickered across the board, green replacing red.

"I've got it!" Liz bolted upright from her nest of wiring and took the controls once again. Fire leapt from the mechs as they blazed their way through the combat.

"They're running!" roared the throaty voice of a Krogan. The Blood Pack were indeed running, and falling where they turned. No fires roared in this room, the fight was over too quickly. Before long, there was no more shooting. It was replaced by raucous cheering. Okeer stalked through the crowd checking suits and thumping his victorious Sons on the chest. Somewhere along the line, the Krogan scientist had lost his helmet. His grey green face bore a few new scars, but also a deeply satisfied smile.

Shepard moved to his side.

"Shepard, we were just about to begin the festivities. It's not every day you get to celebrate the first action of your house."

"Stay down here and party if you'd like, but I'm getting tired of this slaughterhouse." Shepard secured her weapons and motioned for the rest of the team. "We're moving out."

* * *

The team emerged from the cargo elevator with a clatter of half removed armour and the reek of smoke and blood. Garrus emerged first, his chest plate hanging precariously from half of its clasps. He grinned weakly as I approached.

"Guess you got lucky, sitting that one out," he said.

"I feel lucky. A lung was definitely worth missing out on a mission," I shot back, hobbling alongside him. The Turian turned and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Trust me; I'd give up both lungs not to go through that again. I've seen some gruesome things during my time at C-Sec, but when Krogan fight… well, let's just say it's messier up close. I'm just glad these particular Krogan are on our side."

"Okeer's on his own side," Shepard said from behind us. She'd pulled her own hardsuit open to expose the braided undersuit beneath, giving her the air of an old time fighter pilot with unbuttoned jacket. "As long as he keeps to the straight and narrow, we'll have a use for him, but make no mistake. He's in this for his own agenda."

"A Krogan army at your back when it counts will go a long way," Garrus agreed. "Did he tell you what he unearthed in the Blood Pack datacore?" Garrus fired up his Omni-tool. "Jerichos."

"Jerichos?" Shepard asked.

"A recent development, came out of research and development just before you did. Works like a Javalin, but it's been redesigned for a multiple warhead setup."

"So it makes a bigger bang?" I said.

"Not only that, but since Javelins rely on carefully placed twins to spin their warp effect, you're always going to need at least two to get through to have any real punch. The Jericho only splits at the last moment. Essentially you double the effectiveness of any given magazine."

"Double the rounds is good," Shepard cut back in. "I suppose Okeer's willing to produce these for us?"

"Of course, given we supply him with materials. Which we'll have to mine." Both of them turned to look at me.

* * *

That night, I lay awake for a long time. Feron's words still rang in my ears, visions of actions past flashed as my brain tried to weed out signs that I was being manipulated. The idea troubled me, though why it affected me so deeply I couldn't quite recognize. I turned in my bunk and listened to the light snores of the crew around me. I wondered how they had been convinced to join in this quest. Did they realize what their employer stood for?

At the soft ringing of the last night watch, I gave up my thoughts and let sleep overtake me.

* * *

Author's Note:

Another chapter down, I hope you enjoyed the Krogan action. These absentee fight scenes are an interesting challenge to write, although I do enjoy them. Please let me know how you like them. We're about half way through the "loyalty phase", so expect to see the Collectors pop up again soon.

Dracconis, NonSolus: Hope you liked the smashing times. Krogan are fun to write in combat.

yahiro365: I too am eager to write some Hammerhead scenes, though I expect Liddle might have more trouble than he bargains given the missions tied to it.

general-joseph-dickson: Okeer lives to fight another day. I don't want to spoil too much, but I'm saving him for ME3.


	35. Chapter 35: Hunters

Interloper 2: Chapter 35

"That's it, ease her down now. Steady, steady," the engineer clad in reflective orange waved me down.

"And you're certain that we couldn't have stopped at some empty planet to play around with this thing?" My fingers balanced carefully on the haptic dash controls. My earlier excitement at the sight of the gleaming Hammerhead had bled away quickly upon entering the cockpit. The tank, more modern than the Mako, was a cramped affair coloured in dull greys. While the Mako had been tight, it was not quite so claustrophobic.

"'Fraid not, Deputy. Commander says, we don't have time for farting around, says we have a new mission already."

"Already?" I tipped the tank nose down and drifted slowly to the ground. The hull crunched inelegantly against the grating. "I think that's enough for today, Donnelly, you okay to tie this thing down?"

"Oh certainly, it's not like the chief engineer has anything better to do. And yes, new mission. Rumor has it we'll be hitting Omega next." Gears whirred as the rear hatch unlocked itself. I hauled myself up by handles set in the hull above. After a minute of wriggling I freed myself to slide down the narrow corridor that gave access to the gunner's seat and engine spaces, until finally I slipped from the hatch. I certainly hoped I wouldn't have to do that in a hurry.

"So, Omega?"

"The one an' only. Oozing sore of the Terminus Systems. And a fair buyer's market for outmoded engine tech I might add." The engineer took the tank's activation tab and swapped it for bottle of cool water. I took a deep pull.

"You have something in mind?" I asked.

"Actually," Kenneth smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I'll bet you're rearing to get of this tub right? Don't see why you would, but I need someone to sniff out a part for me." The engineer jumped up to sit on the lip of the Hammerhead's hatch.

"You need a part? You can't just whip one up or order one?" I swiped my forehead and leant against the vehicle's tail.

"Ach, you see I would if I could, but it's the damn Fabrication Rights Management. Even our fabbers won't spit 'em out. And the part I need are outmoded, as I was saying, so no luck finding them out on the markets. No, only way to find 'em is in the salvage yards. A set of FBA couplings for the engines, keeps 'em in line and really cuts down on the maintenance time. One's we've got in now are cutting edge, but they get twitchy at the end of the day if you don't take an hour to crawl into the works."

"Don't make them like they used to, eh?" I smiled.

"Downside of riding around in a wet-paint prototype I'm afraid," Donnelly laughed and scratched at his ear. "Wouldn't give it up for the world though, well, maybe one of the big ones." He pushed himself backwards and into the tank.

* * *

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this kind of thing," Garrus said between spoonfuls of his Dextro-ration soup.

"Shove off, Garrus," I flicked a bit of cheese at the Turian, which he deftly dodged. "I got signed up to run the Mako because I could operate a clutch. I'm out of my depth with this haptic stuff." I shoved peas around my plate.

"You know, you could just hand it off, it's not like you're military. Let one of the other's take a whack at it, who knows, maybe Shepard wants to drive for a change."

"What and let go of one of my few useful qualities? Not likely, I get it down if I have to take nights off to run sims."I chuckled and spooned in a mouthful. I had expected Garrus to laugh with me, but instead an awkward silence hung between us. I looked up to find him looking at me, food untouched. His mandibles quivered with concern.

"Don't push yourself to hard, Liddle. It's just a piloting spot. And besides, I don't think the Commander's going to drop you off the side if you can't hack it at tanking."

"I never…" I said defensively.

"No, but you were thinking it, have been for a while. Trust me; Shepard took you back on because you've got a way with winning fights and a sharp mind. Mako driver was just a side perk to her. Now slow down, Chakwas just pulled a handful of needles from your lungs." Garrus took another sip of soup and gave me a reassuring punch in the arm.

"I… suppose you're right," I relented. "But still, it's a fracking tank, Garrus. And… it hovers." I mimed the action with my hands. Garrus laughed at that, a small victory at least. We went back to eating until the distinctive transition shiver ran through the ship.

"Was that the Omega Relay?" I asked.

"I don't think so, I haven't been counting, but I think this one puts us in the Hourglass Nebula. Lean out the window, you might see Thessia." My eyes flicked to the windows unconsciously.

"The Asari home world?"

"The one and only. Better not tell Shepard, she might just decide to pull over for a visit. Not that they'd let us land, the Asari don't like aliens on Thessia." Garrus finished off his bowl. "We shouldn't be here long, turnaround on Asari relays is nice a short, the better to get us out of here. Hey, you got a free shift later?"

"Technically I haven't been fully cleared for duty, so I have the whole rotation free. You want to hit the sims again?" I packed up my own tray and followed him.

"Better, you remember those get-togethers on the _Normandy_, the original one? I picked up a little something on Illium." He fished an OSD from a pocket and tossed it over. I held it to the light to read the holographic label.

"Blasto: The Jellyfish Stings?" I tossed it back. "Bringing back movie night for a new crew?"

"I figured we could get to know them. I figure they'll talk more freely if we get a little social, maybe we can get a little intel on how many of these guys are Cerberus radicals, how many are just along for the ride."

"You're still on this?" I asked.

"Sorry, old habits and all that. I'd just feel better knowing who is who's." The Turian cocked his head and scratched at his crest. He dropped his bowl in the sink and thanked the Mess Sergeant. I left my own tray on top and followed Garrus back towards the forward battery.

"I'll come. I'll even keep an ear open, if that makes you feel better."

"That's all I ask."

* * *

Omega hung in space, a glitzy ball of rock hidden behind a screen of shattered asteroids. It was ugly, brutish, and yet somehow strangely beautiful. The hanging spires stuck out in a thicket of city-scape, as if pins had been pushed into the crust of the hollow asteroid that formed the bulk of the station. In the center, a massive spire stuck out, ringed in steel bands and lit up in bloody red. Joker brought us in fast, skimming the rocks of the field as we drew closer. The ship rumbled slightly as we caught a little turbulence from the dust cloud.

"Keep us steady, Joker. If you end up scratching the paint I'm sending you out there to put on a fresh coat." Shepard said.

I looked up from my seat by the airlock to see the Commander walking steadily up to the _Normandy_ bridge. Shepard had foregone her uniform. Instead she wore a simple black dress, low on the shoulders and cut diagonally at knee height. Her hair, usually short and unfussed over had been styled and apparently lengthened.

"Something the matter, deputy?" She asked , arching an eyebrow.

"No, nothing," I spluttered, "you look… nice, ma'am."

Joker interrupted, spinning his piloting couch around. "You know I'd love to do a little painting, but these damn le… woah." The pilot's face grew a goofy grin. He extended his arms, creating a rectangle with thumbs and forefingers. "Making a mental image in three…"

"That's it, when you head out with your paintbrush, I'm keeping your breather," the Commander shot back, completely deadpan, but her eyes hid a barely restrained smile. She shook her head and waved up the one who was following her. Justicar stepped forward, as aloof as ever. She still wore her red scales.

"Mental image," Joker said under his breath. Speaking up, he asked: "So, Commander, where are you guys going and can I come?"

Shepard shook her head. "I would bring you, but those damn legs." Joker mimed a shot to the heart as Shepard continued. "Samara and I are taking in a show," she said sarcastically, "everyone else gets a day's shore leave."

Joker put up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, don't tell me. I'll just have to make something up."

Shepard ignored him and instead turned back to me. "You feel up for Omega?" she asked.

"Ready enough, I'll stick to the safe parts. Well, the safer parts. I'm also wearing my low-impact harness." I plucked at my belt, the only part of the kinetic barrier webbing that showed over my cloths. "No heroics, right?"

"If I still believed that," Shepard laughed. "Blow off some steam, Liddle. Just don't end up in Mordin's clinic.

* * *

I had no words for the spectacle that was Omega. Well, I had a lot of words; dark, decaying, grimy. The problem was picking one that superseded the others on any kind of consistent basis. Omega was a city-station of chaotic and riotous temperament. Every inch was different from the one before it. Even within the long docking tube the differences stacked up, clean, dirty, bright, gloomy. It was as if the station was a living thing. The differences only grew more stark as we entered the open space that made up the main dome. Homeless Vorcha huddled beside well-dressed club goers, who themselves rubbed elbows with mercs and thugs.

And the smells. I had never smelled such an array of aliens smells in any spaceport I'd ever visited. The odors of a dozen species and their assorted trash mixed with the heady smell of a hundred alcohols, all underlined by the heavy scent of oil and of smoke and of industry.

"It really is something to look at, isn't it?" a voice asked from behind me. "What a shithole." Miranda stepped out of the docking tube.

"Enjoying your shore leave, Miranda?" I asked.

"Hardly, the Commander has me and the Krogan running errands. Okeer says he has a contact that can get us the pieces for our new Jerichos." She twirled a finger in long, black hair. "Here comes the bloated frog now." Okeer lumbered up and the two left, turning towards the aircars. More crew passed as the various departments screwed up the courage or otherwise concluded their competitions to determine who would be stuck on board. I gathered my own courage and stepped off into the station. I turned right, going off half remembered echoes. I passed through a short and gated corridor into a much dimmer area of the station. Aliens passed me with dark looks and the air of suspicion. I tried a few disarming smiles, but they didn't seem to help. Giving up on a friendly reception, I shoved hands in pockets and hurried along.

I ducked my head as I moved past the angry Batarian preacher. With the crowd of various aliens before him, I was just able to slip by without catching any abuse. Past the congregation of assorted bigots, I ran into a fork in the corridor. Opting for the brighter one, I followed a set of stairs down past a restaurant touting an "authentic Earth delicacy." Then I was in amongst the station's merchants. Men, both human and alien, flocked to and fro between the neon lit shop fronts. I scoped them out, spotting a few familiar fixtures. The large and bulky form of an Elcor stood smoking a cigar behind a stall marked brightly as "Harrot's Emporium." His humped back rose and fell in quick puffs.

Across from his store and down a side passage stood the larger Omega Market. And down from that… My eyes fell on my target. In a dingy and far off corner, a dim sign marked Kenn's Salvage. I made for it with purpose, pulling up a set of schematics that I'd managed to pester from Donnelly. The shop front looked empty as I walked up.

"Hello?" a girl's voice called out. I spun. Liz Romano leaned against the end of the stall, eyes searching the dark back of the store. "Is this Kenn's?"

"Lizzers?" I asked. She turned and smiled.

"Oh, Mikey, I didn't see you there. Are you here to take a look at the salvage as well?" She leaned further over the counter.

"I hope so, both of you. I'm Kenn and this is my store, such as it is. You're looking for salvage?" He tilted his head and stood ill at ease. He made a show of putting a hand behind his head in a pose of embarrassment.

"Yes," Both I and Liz spoke at the same time.

"Yes," I said. "I'm looking for a few of these." I showed him the schematics, bringing an orange glow to the narrow culvert. Kenn squinted past the mask that held him in his sealed micro-environment. Liz squinted close in as well.

"Are those Gabby's FBA couplings?" she asked.

"You mean Donnelly's couplings? Yeah, he sent me down to grab a couple." I shut off the projection. "Don't tell me you've been sent for them too."

"There… may be a slight problem. You see, that looked a lot like a T-6 FBA. Problem is I had to give away my last pair over a week ago. Business hasn't exactly been booming lately." He hung his head and slipped behind the counter. If there's anything else though?"

"You gave it away? To who?" I asked, thrown a little.

"I… yes. Debt collectors you see. Business really hasn't been booming at all. I have other supplies though. Perhaps you would like to look at them?" He finished hopefully. I shook my head, but Liz spoke up.

"Let me have a look at your catalogue," she said.

"Liz, we really can't afford any extraneous shopping," I said, but she brushed me off and opened Kenn's inventory manifest. She waved me off when I tried to interrupt again.

"How much for the heavy gauge, and this metal stock. I'll need some of these too if you have them." She highlighted a long list. Even through his helmet, the Quarian looked thrilled.

"What's your plan, Lizzers?" I asked.

"Kenn doesn't have the part, but he does have the pieces. I can assemble a couple, no problem." She pulled out her credit chit. "How much for the lot?"

"Um, three hundred," Kenn said bashfully. "But for you, I can let them go for two hundred fifty." He accepted the chit. "The parts will be delivered before noon, Omega time."

"What time is it now?" I asked.

"It's only nine," Liz said, syncing her chronometer. "I can't get to work until everything's delivered. Do you have any ideas?"

* * *

"You are such a liar, Michael Liddle," Liz said as we walked up a set of stairs. I looked back over my shoulder.

"I'd never; Kenn definitely took a shine to you. I think he likes you!" the jab was childish, but it felt good to cut loose for once. Teasing Liz felt a lot like home, not just Cook's Landing, but the place before. I shook away the images of a long loop of road dotted with white-sided houses.

"I knew that, he wasn't very subtle about it. I was talking about you being able to get us into the VIP room of Afterlife."

_Oh_

That was an actual lie, or at least a partial one. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Liz to believe that I'd been able to land a pair of passes to the exclusive portion of the club. What I did have was a word, wedged in my brain somewhere between a half remembered past that never happened and a future that looked ever more improbable.

"Trust me, I can get us in," I said as we approached the burly looking bouncer. He held up a hand to stop us.

"Passes?" He asked gruffly.

"Jaruut sent us," I said, somewhat unsurely. Luckily, my brain hadn't failed me this time and the bouncer opened the door. Loud and heavy music rolled out like a cloud, followed only shortly by an actual cloud of artificial smoke.

The VIP room was built to a circular plan, with a dance floor that made a ring around a central stage. The outer walls were ringed with private booths and a long, curved bar counter. Lights played out across the crowd, not quite dispelling the smoky darkness. Above all, it was loud.

"You said you had passes!" Liz had to shout over the music. I stopped and turned to face her. She looked a little out of place in the dark club, her pale dress more suited for Landing summers than Omega hot spots. She twirled her brown hair self-consciously.

"I said I had a pass, you know, a password. Now do you want to dance or something?" I looked at the dance floor. It wasn't exactly packed at this early hour, but the dancers were still energetic. Whether human, asari, or the odd batarian, everyone seemed to be having a good time. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

"Oh alright, just a small one," Liz relented. We made our way through the dancing patrons towards the long bar. The counter stocked more bottles than I'd heard of, and in more colours than looked healthy. I ordered a simple vodka and orange while Liz found a cocktail mixed with some of her native fruit. She giggled after a couple of sips. "You know what would be funny? If this was some of dad's citrus, he'd be so mad." She laughed.

"Yeah?" I said noncommittally. My eyes were on the room. A voice in the back of my head told me something important was supposed to be happening here. I brushed it off and turned back to Liz. "Hey, you want to dance?"

But she was talking to another patron. From the sound of it, they were arguing over the merits of some new band that was making the circuit. I left her there and moved onto the dance floor. It was not hard finding a partner, in the short time since we had arrived, the pace of the club had picked up radically.

While not much of a dancer myself, I managed to muddle my way through two songs with an Asari who swore up and down that her Salarian father had had no influence on her personality. Given the length and speed at which she professed this, I wasn't completely convinced. We broke away as the music deepened and slowed down. I found myself swept away in the crowd of moving bodies. Someone on the floor released a puff of pink aerosol just as I swung behind them. The cloud had an acrid smell, but I found myself not minding too much. The club seemed to press in then, with each beat of the music offering a more inspiring note. I smiled freely and danced among the others.

Then, out of the crowd, I saw her. Parting the dancers like a ship would part the water, an Asari with deep blue skin approached. Every nerve not frazzled by whatever was in the pink cloud screamed danger, but I didn't know why. I decided that it didn't matter. I could handle a little danger.

"Hello," she said, her voice surprisingly deep, smoky like the room. "I've been watching you." The words set of tingles.

"Have you now?" I said with foreign confidence. "I suppose you've seen something you like?"

"Come to my table," the Asari said. "We could… talk for a while."

"I'd like that," I heard myself saying. She led me back to a dark corner of the room. Once seated I could see why she'd chosen it. The table lay in the shadow cast by the end of the bar, yet it offered an unfettered view of the club, almost the entire floor lay open to the observant watcher. "You like to watch them, like some kind of hunter, don't you?" I noted.

"We are both hunters, after a fashion, are we not?" she asked. "Don't act so surprised, it is not hard to see the training in you, the steel in your walk. You are a hunter of death. I am merely a hunter of pleasure."

"A hunter of life, don't you mean?" I asked. "Not much of a market for killing dead things."

"I meant what I said, I was watching, remember. I could see you have a wounded soul. It intrigues me, never have I seen such in one so young. You seek danger, excitement, but you never find enough." She leaned back into the black leather of the couch, but kept her eyes locked on mine. "Are you enjoying the Hallex I gave you?" A small and knowing smile.

"That was you in the crowd? I suppose I'll have to thank you, the music's been…"

"Sublime?" the Asari leaned in close now, eyes searching for something. I leaned in to match.

"Couldn't have found a better word."

* * *

"So, tell me, Liddle. Tell me of the battles that earned you your wounds," the Asari said. We had talked in the club for what felt like hours before she had invited me to her apartment. I followed, forgetting the feelings of dread that threatened to send me running. The Asari wouldn't appreciate that. She valued strength. I would prove my strength, already I had impressed her by letting slip that I had though alongside Commander Shepard. I'd impress her more, I had decided.

"The wounds on my back or the wounds on my soul? Both make an equally interesting story." I said, putting as much growl into my voice as I dared. The Asari laughed darkly.

"We can begin with your soul, the day is long, and you have a clever tongue. Had I not seen the steel in you I would have assumed that you were a writer."

I laughed at the suggestion, not the giddy laugh I had given under the influence, but one more sarcastic. I had been a writer once, though not a very good one. That was before I had appeared from thin air on Eden Prime.

"I've lost friends," I started slowly. "My fault, really. Jenkins." I could still see his face when he choked out his last words on Virmire. I tried to push it away. Something held it there, gallingly close. "Others too, all my fault."

"There is strength in failure," the Asari said with a comforting arm around my shoulders. "It speaks of survival. Survival where your friends fell. You should be proud."

"I don't feel proud though," I said with more force than I expected. "Not of surviving. Not at their expense. I feel hollow." I looked away from her but she pulled me back with light fingers on my chin.

"You have never told anyone this." It was not a question. "I see now, you hold a weight of secrets enough to drown most. Do you not have someone to share them with?"

"I did," I admitted. "I fear she won't hear me out now."

"Another woman?" she asked. She must have seen something in my eyes, because she followed up her question with the answer. "Another Asari." I nodded. "I can see this weighs heavily on your mind. Allow me to unburden you. Release you."

_No!_

"How?" I asked.

"Meld with me. I can fix your wounded soul; release you from your anguish. You will be happy again." Her words were convincing in my ears, they coiled around my mind in a vice grip.

"I've… I've never…"

"It is alright, just relax. Think of your pain and _Embrace Eternity_." Eyes filled with blackness and I felt the touch at my mind. It was the gentle finger that I had felt from Liara, like that of a slow, warm stream. This touch felt like a torrent of the ocean released in my head, like waves breaking against the shores of my mind. And it felt wrong. Something savage, like an animal tore its way thundering through my head. It pulled up images, some fresh, some long buried. I saw the day before, my conversation with Garrus. Then I was watching the battle at the refinery, myself running alongside Zaeed. The images came faster, stronger. I saw the Collectors, Cook's Landing, Sovereign descending above Illos, Virmire, Eden Prime. Then new images came bubbling up from the cap I had mentally sealed them behind. The Crucible, Earth on fire, the Collector base, Omega, the apartment, Commander Shepard in my place.

_Morinth_

The connection broke and the tides withdrew from my head. I was myself again, staring into the eyes of a killer.

"What are you!?" she cried. Her eyes were wide and shocked, her jaw hung slack. "What are you?" she repeated. Before I could answer, the doors hissed open. Two figures strode into the room, pistols drawn.

"Get away from him you bitch," Shepard said darkly. Morinth was only too happy to oblige. She threw me bodily, the purple-black flare of biotics tossing me against the wall. I heard a dull crack and the world went fuzzy. Indistinct voices shouted just outside of comprehension as bright arcs flashed. The flashes stopped with the sound of broken glass and a shrill scream.

A hand shook my shoulder. I blinked past the fuzziness until the bright red blob resolved itself into the crimson framed face of Commander Shepard. She shined something bright in my eyes. I batted it away.

"Liddle? Liddle, are you okay?" I heard. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. "Come on, let's get you up." The hand tightened and I felt myself being hauled to my feet. The room spun as we walked away from the apartment.

* * *

Author's Note:

I was tempted to cut this into two, but after finishing I realized it really lacked enough meet to hold up both ends. So you guys get the super duper uncut edition of this chapter. We're coming to the middle of the loyalty phase, so expect Collectors in the near future. Lots and lots of Collectors. Also coming soon, we'll be seeing more of the Shadow Broker as well, plus some surprise characters, so stay tuned.

yahiro365: Thanks for the review. Yup, that medicine of the future sure is a wonderful thing. I'm glad you enjoyed the Krogan fight.

Iyrsiiea: I appreciate the run-on sentence of doom, you had a lot of good points.

-Liddle Out


	36. Chapter 36: Frost

Interloper 2: Chapter 36

The bright lights of the _Normandy_ med bay twinkled in a familiar but unfriendly way. Or perhaps I imagined it that way. Either way, there was no avoiding it, strapped to the table as I was. Shapes moved just out of vision, sounds just out of earshot. All I could do was wait until the feeling of cold drained from my skull. Suddenly, with a pop, my hearing came flooding back. The first sound to come rushing to meet me was the gentle rumble of the proton thrusters that roared just outside the hull. Other sounds slowly slipped back in. The beep of diagnostic machines came first, followed shortly by the hum of quiet conversation just outside the glass of the med bay and the quiet voices within.

"That's the last diagnostic, looks like the shroud was undamaged. I think it must have saved his life, from what Samara has told us of the Ardat-Yakshi, his nervous system should have been burnt out. There was some minor scarring, and an unusual amount of activity in the memory centers. Otherwise he's remarkably healthy for one who's been through what he's been through."

"So when do you think he'll come around? Us dragging him out of there was one thing, but I want to know how he got there in the first place."

"The scarring should have cleared up by now. He'll be up whenever the anesthetic from the diagnostic process burns off."

"Good, keep me posted."

"Commander, I don't think you'll have to wait long." The voices stopped and I could feel two people step closer. "Deputy Liddle, can you hear my voice?" Doctor Chakwas leaned closer. I nodded, feeling fuzzy from the meds. She backed off and let Shepard step in closer.

"How are you doing, Deputy?"

"'eeling happy, Comm'der," I said in a voice that sounded horribly slurred. "'orry, I… I mean, I'm feeling better." I tried to rise and felt the straps tighten. "You mind getting me out of here?" Still slurred, but at least I sounded human.

"In time, Doc says she doesn't want you hurting yourself. You've got a mean left." The Commander brushed aside the hair hanging across her left ear to reveal a light bruise that followed the curve of her cheek. "You were babbling something about a guy called Leng."

"What? You mean I did that?" a cold feeling settled in my gut. "That's not a hanging offense is it?"

"What is this, the Peninsula Campaign?" Shepard snorted. "You were borderline comatose at the time, I'm not going to hold it against you. I do have to know a few things. Starting with how you came to be in Morinth's apartment last night."

The cold feeling shifted and became more pointed. "Morinth?"

"That Asari, the one you almost ended up making mind-babies with." Shepard leaned down until her elbows rested on the high side-rail. "Also, coincidentally, the entire reason we came to Omega, Samara's been hunting her across Illium for years. And you manage to wander into a VIP club to find her and get her to take you in?"

My mind was still fuzzy from the drugs, but faces still floated up from the muddy depths. The deep blue Asari, stippled and almost identical to Samara. Morinth. I remembered her now, not through the haze of time that covered everything from before my arrival, but fresh, as if I had just sat down with her. Which I suppose I had.

"Don't… know. Drugged." Shepard looked back to Chakwas. The doctor nodded.

"We did find traces of the drug Hallex in his system when you brought him in. We found it on his clothes also, a dose by aerosol, I'd imagine, though I've never seen it delivered that way. Causes heightened senses but lowers awareness."

"There was… pink mist," I struggled to think back. "In the club. I was dancing. Morinth, she said she gave me the drug, she said it made things… interesting."

"That fits with what we found out about her methods during our investigation. What did you do that brought her to you? Our research says she attracted to artists and painters."

"I told her I worked with you; that seemed to impress her. She said something, said that we were both hunters or something." I screwed up my eyes and tried to gauge Shepard's face. "I don't know what she meant by that." Shepard nodded slowly, the slightest smile curling her lips, as if amused. It disappeared as she turned back to look at me.

"Me neither, Deputy, but it explains why and how she took you. That leaves another question. What'd you do to her?"

"Commander?"

"What did you do to put the fear into something that frightens sentients across the galaxy? Morinth was a monster, but she looked at you like you were her own personal demon. Liddle, I've been lenient with your little quirks and oddities in the past, but looking into the mind of a simple frontier farmer is not generally cause for that kind of fear. So spill it."

She fixed me with her signature glare, and I quailed. I knew what had driven Morinth from my mind. My true past and deepest secret, that I had been ripped from another world by an unknown force. It sounded ridiculous even to my own mind. As Shepard stared down at me, I found myself with two options. I could either continue the lie, hide behind an ever deepening wall of falsehood. Or I could own up and admit that I had been dishonest from the start. I could tell her that I was a man from a parallel universe with knowledge of the future. She'd ditch me for sure. There was only one course of action. A broken tool was no tool at all.

"When… when we melded," I put on my best show of a painful memory. "All I could see was black. There was nothing. No memories, nothing. It was like looking into an empty cave."

"Really?" Shepard looked confused. "That's not normal during the melding process. Doctor?" She looked over to the older woman.

"I'm no expert on the Asari reproductive process, but it could be what young Liddle saw was the result of his fitted neural shroud. By design it blocks out harmful aberrations in mental activity. Theoretically it could cause this blackness effect. The shrouds haven't really been tested with Asari interaction."

Chakwas' words brought a profound look of relief to Shepard's face. It almost broke me to see her accept my lie, but I bit my tongue to avoid admitting to what would sound like insanity. Shepard reached down to undo the straps that held me down and offered a hand to steady me when I tried to rise. I accepted the help and twisted until I could but feet to floor. The feeling of cold on my soles was refreshing enough to propel me unsteadily to my feet.

"Hold on now, no need to rush things," Shepard said warmly. It chilled me as surely as the metal floor. "We're two days out of Lattesh, rest up until then."

* * *

That night found me uneasy, tossing and turning as I talked myself down from marching to Shepard's cabin over and over, each time a little less convinced. The lies were piling up on top of me until it became hard to breath. Other doubts started slipping in through the cracks, little opportunistic doubts and fears played to a background of ghosts and the horns of Reapers. At some point I must have slipped into a shallow sleep, because the faces of Kohoku and Jenkins hounded me across a dismal landscape of burnt trees until the bell rang to signify the "morning" watch.

I eyed the room blearily. Doctor Chakwas appeared to have left on other business, which left me alone in the small med-bay. I hauled myself up off the bed with a groan. Someone had left me a pile of my clothes at the end of the bed. I gratefully shrugged them on and padded my way out of the med-bay. Breakfast was already in full swing as I past the mess. I ducked past the eating crewmembers and headed instead to the cargo bay. It was quiet down there, and mercifully free of people. The wide open space seemed somewhat cluttered with the Kodiak sharing the floor with the Hammerhead. I headed over to the tank and knocked on the white metal hull. I rang hollowly, but no one answered. I tugged open the hatch and crawled inside.

Still unpleasantly close, but it at least I was unlikely to run into the Commander. I wasn't sure I could look her in the eye, not after the lie I'd told. It was a strange feeling, a kind of failure in motion. As if I could see every misstep as I made it but was unable to stop myself. I stamped down the feeling and hauled myself behind the controls. A few buttons, and I was running along the frosted canyons of Lattesh. The planet certainly earned its Salarian name, "It's still winter," the feeling of cold almost spilled from the simulator screen. It was an empty and barren world, coated in a thick suit of icy mail, a long sleeping knight of snow. It felt somehow appropriate. I don't know how long I hid away inside that tank. What started as a simple drive ended in engagements with Geth, Batarians, Asari.

"Liddle?" I jumped, almost colliding with the hard ceiling of the Hammerhead. Engrossed as I was, I had not noticed the opening hatch or the soft sounds of someone crawling up the narrow crew space.

"Yes Liz?" I asked. I didn't turn around. From the sound of her voice she wasn't happy to find me hiding out down here.

"I went to check up on you, Doctor Chakwas said you'd disappeared during breakfast. I figured I'd find you down here when you didn't turn up in the barracks or the armoury. What are you doing, Liddle?" I didn't speak for a long time. When I did, it sounded harsh and alien.

"You were sent down to collect me then? To dig me out of hiding?"

"What, a friend can't visit another friend?" Liz asked sarcastically. It was a tone I rarely heard on the usually cheery girl. I forced myself to face the girl and came face to face with a mask of anger. She hid the feelings in her voice well, because it took me by surprise.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know you might not agree with how I'm dealing with it, but…"

"How you're dealing with it? How you are dealing with it?" Liz said sternly, "Who said anything about you? How about how I'm dealing with you leaving me alone in an Omega club to go get your brain sucked out by an Asari vampire?" She ranted, breathing heavily when she had finished. I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach. "Because let me tell you, I didn't deal with it half as well as I'm going to deal with you."

"Liz, I…"

"Hold it, I'm not done," she said. She turned herself until she sat sideways in the gun well, knees tucked to her chest. "Look, what the hell were you thinking, following some strange Asari back to her apartment? Did you forget I was there or something?"

"Yes! I forgot!" I snapped, "I'm sorry, Morinth drugged me on the dance floor after I bought you your drink. You saw that place, I got caught up." I turned away again to face the frozen screen, but I felt the eyes burning into the back of my neck.

"That doesn't make it right." Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Then she was gone.

* * *

I spent another night fleeing from the specters of the past through my own little forest of ash and smoke. New voices had joined the faces of Jenkins and Kohoku, I saw a girl, skinny with dark hair and heavier boy with a mop of blondish curls. I knew their faces; no distance of time could rob me of their names. They stood before a white sided house on a lonely road that ran through the burning wood and stared out after me.

* * *

Hours of simulators did not do Lattesh justice. The planet's high winds tore at the Hammerhead from the second the _Normandy_ let it loose from the hold. We descended on unsteady jets as snow whipped around us. Inside, the tank was a noisy beast, and uncomfortably hot. Behind me, Garrus manned the guns as Shepard sat towards the rear with her head wrapped up in the comms. gear.

"Hey Shepard, remind me again why we're free falling over this ice ball," Garrus shouted over the noise. It took two tries to get her attention. "Why are we here?" Garrus repeated.

"Do you even listen to the briefings anymore?" Shepard asked. "We're here to pick up some beacons left here by a couple of scientists studying the Geth after the whole Ilos Incident. Cerberus wants them, and this mission came from the top." Shepard didn't sound happy about being torn from her mission again to go running off on another of the Illusive Man's fetch quests.

"And the reason we couldn't have just picked them up via probe?"

"Too cold," I answered, "It's taking all of this beast's engine output just to keep us from dropping out of the sky. Something as small as one of our probes would hit the surface like it was Hoth."

Garrus balked and clutched his seat a little tighter. "I'm not familiar with that system." He turned back to Shepard, locking his gun forwards. "Are we expecting action?"

"I'm banking on the Geth running into similar problems. Either way, get that gun back in line." Garrus complied and swiveled to the front. The Hammerhead continued its plummet into the blizzard. As we descended through the cloud-induced darkness, I noticed a sliver of a chill flit across the cabin. The storm seemed endless, stretching down beyond even the floodlights of the Hammerhead. Inside the rattling shell of the tank, the air grew colder.

"We've been dropping for a while; can you get a visual on the ground?" Shepard asked. I flipped through the HUD views in a mad search to catch a glimpse at the planet. I saw nothing.

"Negative, Commander, switching on the thumper." The "thumper" was one of the first tools the Hammerhead's simulator had taught me to use and one of the most useful. Despite its name, the device emitted only a monotonous dull tapping, at least from the inside. The front HUD shifted green and displayed the thumper's returns, a bouncing echo that beat in time to the tapping. For now, it showed nothing, no bottom to the cloud we had been cloaked in.

"Not seeing the ground here, Commander, you're sure Joker didn't miss the planet?" The faint tapping continued as the air rushed past. Then the thumper gave out a fleeting chirp. The crew of the Hammerhead tensed up, each member straining their ears. The chirp came again with an accompanying ripple on the HUD. More came, more frequently now. Slowly an image of the valley below formed from the echoes of the machine.

"This rock goes deep," Garrus said with a whistle. The Valley opened up below us as a fresh cross wind buffeted the tank. It blew the snow aside, suddenly exposing the great expanse of the target landing site. High and flattened plateaus rose up on both sides to bracket us.

"There, that's better… wait, Liddle, pull up!" I jammed both hands down on the haptics and hauled the tank back up into the air. We skimmed past a hidden pinnacle of rock that had risen from the snow directly ahead of us. The hull screeched and shuddered and for a brief second I thought that we would be spitted on the rocks. We continued on though, and I was able to regain control. The Hammerhead landed in the powdery snow and blasted up a little storm of our own until the jets managed to stabilize.

"We'll work on your landings later," Shepard said after picking herself up off the floor. "I'm reading the first marker now. We better get a move on; the temperature's already dropping in the engine compartment."

* * *

"Four beacons down, we're making good time, people," Shepard called as she hauled another of the small, spherical data buoys from the snow with the salvage arm. She didn't sound as hopeful as her words though. I eyed the temperature gauge myself.

_Not a lot left in her,_ I thought.

"There's a tricky bit ahead of us," Garrus said after a look at the HUD. "Are you sure this thing can make it?"

"It's going to have to!" I shouted back. I saw what he was talking about. Just ahead of us the valley intersected with another, deeper rift. The gap would have to be jumped. I eyed the temperature gauge again and pushed all available power to the thrusters. The Hammerhead coughed and groaned as more force was squeezed from frozen components. We sped along and picked up speed. All I could see was the oncoming gap and my fingers on the console. They were white from the cold.

"Jumping….. Now!" I jammed down hard on the jump jets. The tank cried out as the last of its endurance gave out. We were airbourne for what seemed like an age. The rift yawned beneath us, but we sailed free. The Hammerhead hit the other side with a crunch and skipped across the basin. I brought the tank to a skidding stop. The engine rattled in its housing but struggled on. I sucked in a deep breath of chilly air and let it spill mistily from my lips. The steady tapping of the thumper replaced the howling as the winds died down.

A burst of static spilled from the radio. Shepard scrabbled at the comms. gear in an attempt to clear it up. After a few dud channels, she got it working. Joker's voice came through in a scratchy blur of sound.

"_Normandy to ground party, please respond,"_

"Shepard here, what do you need, Joker?" she replied. I lifted the tank gingerly up off of the ground and began the journey towards the next beacon.

"_I've got something you'll want to hear, Commander._"

"Can't it wait; we're kind of on a deadline here."

"You're not going to want to wait for this…"

"Joker…"

"Commander, it's from Tali."


	37. Chapter 37:Bringing Light to the Shadows

Interloper 2: Chapter 37

The inside of the Hammerhead fell silent, the only sound coming from outside.

"Say again, Joker, I'm not sure we got that last one," Shepard called. The radio crackled softly before Joker's voice came back through, clearer this time.

"We received a message from Tali. Do you want me to pipe it through to you, or are we picking you up?"

"Bring the _Normandy_ in, we're done here," Shepard said. She raised a hand at my uttered protest and made the signal to rise. I shook my head and dropped a comm. buoy to mark the final objective for later pickup before depressing the emergency ascension jets. The bright blue flames lit the cockpit from the underside and a jolt ran through the tanks that felt like a kick to the seat of my pants. The chilly interior warmed rapidly, setting off a cascade of sharp pings as the metal heated up. The tank plowed upwards through the gale, going nose up to slice through the sheets of snow and hail. Upwards and upwards we rose, like a cork suddenly released in water. The air cleared at long last as the Hammerhead rocketed from the blizzard. The jets cut out as the last of the fuel slipped through them.

"Pop flares and hold on," Shepard ordered. I did as ordered and braced myself against the metal frame around me. For a second, nothing happened. Then there was a roar of fierce engines and the shark-nosed prow of the Normandy flashed overhead. For a spilt second we were weightless as the ship's mass effect field washed over us. There was a sharp tug to the side and we were caught firmly in the hanger's arresting beam. The engine noise fell to a dull roar and we tipped skywards, back into space

The rear hatch hissed open and we were bathed in a wash of warm air. I shivered despite the heat as pins and needles ran up and down my chilled fingers. The rest of the tank's small crew similarly shook themselves before making their way one by one out into the hanger. I left last, shutting down the strained and tired sounding engine. It spun down with a rattle and I unclipped myself from my harness. I shuffled rearwards to join Garrus and Shepard as they talked to one of EVA's holographic platforms. Joker's head floated above it, projected form the cockpit.

"…and as I was saying, Commander, simple encrypted video recording. Tali said you should probably listen to it alone."

"Probably doesn't want it piped through to Cerberus," Shepard noted, "We're alone down here, Joker. I'm sure whatever Tali has to say, she won't mind a few of the old guard listening in. Play the message."

"Playing." Joker's face disappeared and was replaced by a foot tall image of a Quarian. Even in stark blue I recognized the banded suit of Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, or was it vas Neema now? Either way, Tali stood before us now obviously agitated, even angry from the way she almost shook. Beneath her newly shortened cowl the lights of her eyes bobbed as if under a deeply furrowed brow.

_Shepard…_ she began_, …I know you're working for Cerberus now, and I know we didn't_ _part on the best of terms after Horizon, and I know you are on one of your missions. But if you can find the time… something has… _Tali looked away. Her hands worked at something held between them. _It is my father. He's been charged with treason, which might mean exile if he's found guilty. Normally this would be an internal matter, but given my connection to you, the Admiralty Board will allow you to open a SPECTRE investigation. The case looks bleak, but if there's anyone who can find a way of this… Please, the coordinates to the Migrant Fleet are included in this recording. Hurry, the trial will be held by the end of the week._

* * *

I sat worrying outside the briefing room. Tali's father arrested for treason. I had almost forgotten I had sent the message to the Admiralty Board. And now after weeks, months bouncing off of comm. buoys and hitching rides in the nav. arrays of passing freighters, it had arrived. I wasn't looking forward to meeting Tali face to face. Odds are she wouldn't have any idea I had sent the incriminating tipoff, but seeing her oscillate between angry and forlorn was sure to tear at me. With luck, Shepard would see the Geth parts and somehow manage to convince the young Quarian that it was better to have her father alive and banished than dead and buried. From there the road was unclear, an increasingly common feeling. Would she still join the mission with her father still alive? Would she stay with him and continue his work? I tried to think back and remember how the events had played out in Mass Effect. I came up blank, only the vague outlines of an infested science vessel and a show trial rattling around my head.

"Liddle?" I jumped with a start. I bolted to my feet and sketched a salute as Shepard and company piled out of the spacious conference room. She returned the gesture and touched me lightly on the shoulder. "You dodged out of their pretty quickly, something wrong?"

"Nothing wrong, Commander. Just had to walk the chill out my feet," I lied. Shepard laughed and made a show of rubbing her hands together.

"I know that feeling. Remind me never to head down to a planet cold enough to kill us again. You got the gist of the briefing though, right?"

"Tali's in trouble, something about her father smuggling Geth parts?" I mumbled. The Commander nodded. "So are we going to head there? I know Tali means a lot to you."

"The _Normandy_ will be heading over as soon as the coordinates we received have been decrypted. You have a different mission. Walk with me." She motioned and I followed. We turned left, moving towards the armoury at a slow walk. "You remember the mech spelling bee we ran into a while back?"

"Of course, have you dug up something new?"

"I was about ready to let it go, but Cerberus just got done sending down a probe. I don't know what they found down there, but it's lit a fire under their ass. They want me to take a two day journey out of my way to shut down what they're calling a rogue plant."

"You think there's more to this?"

"Wouldn't be sending you if I didn't. With Tali's father on trial within the week, we don't have time to go running off on the Illusive man's whims, but I'm curious as to what has him so bent out of shape. Grab a team of two, Zaeed and Elisabeth should suffice. And be careful, the mechs might not be as friendly on this world."

I was about to respond when the general alarm blared twice, the signal that the _Normandy_ was engaging stealth mode. Joker's voice followed it over the intercom.

"Er… Commander, you're going to want to take a look at this."

"On my way, Joker," she responded into her radio. "Hold that thought, Liddle. Let's see what's gone wrong this time."

* * *

There it was again. It hung like a malevolent bat above the bridge holoprojector, it's harsh angles glinting from reflected starlight. The shape it cut in the dark of space was unmistakable. The _Shadow Barge_.

"How the hell did this thing find us again?" Shepard growled. Her eyes were fixed on the blocky Q-ship. The Shadow Broker's personal meat cleaver had once again stationed itself about the system's mass relay and didn't show any signs of budging. Instead it orbited the relay slowly, making a show of opening every gun port. Either it had undergone a few upgrades of its own, or this was the first time it unsheathed its full might.

"Maybe they'll be kind enough to let us know," Joker said. "Receiving tansmission."

_Commander Shepard, _the _Shadow Barge's_ captain spoke in his grating filtered voice. _Once again we meet on the field of battle. For one so adept at escape you show a disturbing lack of care in covering your tracks. Illium, Omega, and even now you broadcast your location._

The bridge crew looked back and forth amongst one another, a few man and women nervously checking their stations for any sign of a beacon or signal. Shepard stared hard-faced at the image of the ship that stood between her and freedom.

"Cut in a relay, I want to talk to this son of a bitch," Shepard said to no one in particular. The comms. officer rushed to fulfill her order and handed her a small hand mic. She thanked him and thumbed the device on. "_Normandy _to _Shadow Barge_, I thought you'd given up on being humiliated. Are you going to try and convince me to turn myself in again? Or maybe try to bribe my crew out from under me?"

_The Shadow never tires, Commander. And such deceptions and manipulations will not be required today, for my orders have been changed. My pursuit of you has become… costly, too costly, the Broker believes, to justify further attempts to capture you. I am here for one reason, to remove you from the playing field. Now, you can come and face me, or I can wait for you to run out your stealth drives and be forced from cover. It's your choice really, I'm a patient man. Good day._

The transmission ended. The _Barge_ continued its lazy course like some high tech ancestor to the great white sharks of Earth, slow circles, never too far to engage anything running for the relay. Shepard was the first to stir.

"Joker, how much time can you give us under stealth?"

"Maybe an hour, Commander. The ship's still running a little hot from the atmospheric pick-up. I can give you a little stretch time, nearly another half an hour, but we won't be in any position to fight once we drop back into view."

"Thank you Joker. Continue our present course for now, minimal power. I need some time to think." She set down the microphone and for a brief second a rare look of concern crossed her brow. She studied the ship, the system, anything to gain an edge. The situation didn't look optimistic. One by one Shepard expended the options open to her; false distress signals, mechanical decoys, and the like. The _Shadow Barge_ resolutely refused to react. Instead it just continued its slowly orbit about the relay.

"Twenty minute window, Commander," Joker reminded her. Shepard nodded gravely. Her eyes swept the room and seemed to linger on every crew member as if to weigh them.

"Run out the guns, beat to quarters, and get a fair wind in our sails," She said quietly.

"Commander?"

"We're going to fight them, Joker. No more running. I think we're all pretty tired of running from this jumped up pirate." There were murmurs of agreement from among the bridge crew, but they did not hide the fear in many of their eyes. Shepard stepped up onto the command podium and regarded them approvingly. "We come in from behind them, where they least expect. Vent the heat sinks at the head of the attack run to confuse their targeting. We hit them as hard and as many times as possible before they can react."

"Commander, I'll agree that the _Normandy_ is the biggest and baddest frigate in the Terminus Systems, but that bulk freighter outmasses us by a good factor, and outguns us by maybe more. I won't have another ship shot out from under me, Shepard, I can't." Joker's voice sounded strained, almost at the end of his nerves.

"I bet they don't outpilot us," Shepard said with a wolfish grin. She had caught Joker in a trap he couldn't escape from. "Bring your a-game, Joker, we're going hunting." Joker let out a long drawn out sigh.

"Aye, ma'am. EVA, roll out the ECM, give 'em the full red carpet treatment. Garrus, you ready?"

"Am I ever not?"

"Alright, here we go," Joker laid both hands on the haptic dashboard. "Atomic batteries to power. Turbines to speed."

The Normandy put on a burst of speed as the oversized Tantalus drive crackled with energy.

* * *

The bulky _Shadow Barge_ hung in space, projected high into the air above the galaxy map. While alert, it was looking in the wrong direction to catch a glimpse at the small frigate that rocketed toward it at just barely sublight speeds. The _Normandy_ splashed across their scopes with a burst of superheated coolant that roiled out behind it like the tail of a comet. Before the Shadow Broker's headsmen could react, they were under attack. Bright beams stabbed out from the _Normandy's_ belly, miniaturized hydrodynamic weapons that impacted against kinetic barriers. Only one lanced through to score a deep furrow in the armour of the larger freighter.

And then they were past them. Joker pulled the Normandy up and away, using thruster to put the Normandy into a tight orbit of the _Barge_ while maintaining a front-on approach. Again the blue lances shot out to score another deep cut. But now the enemy was ready. They ripped back at the gnat that chopped at them. Solid mass effect rounds began to fill the space between them as one attempted to pin down the other. Unable to keep his orbit, Joker broke away.

"Keep us out of range of the spinal gun!" Shepard yelled as the ship shook from repeated impacts. Joker didn't answer, mind locked onto the situation playing out in front of and around him. He tipped the ship on its nose and dove hard to pass under the _Barge_. The bigger ship opened up with ventral missile tubes. The javelins erupted just ahead and behind the ship. Joker swore and hit the emergency reactive thrusters. The _Normandy_ shot downwards like a stone and avoided being bracketed. The maneuver took them out of range again, so Joker took the time to play his speed advantage. He danced the ship about and pulled back into an attack run. Weathering the storm, Garrus cut loose with another burst of the Phoenix cannon. The shot was knocked wide by a hit high on the frigate's shoulder.

"We're hulled, Commander!" a crewman yelled. "Engineering's venting atmosphere."

"Lock it down!" She replied, "Joker, see if you can't dance us around a little more!"

"Hey, I'm tangoing for all I'm worth, that thing just has too many guns!" He put more power to the engines regardless. The _Normandy_ twirled, wound, and dove until its engines screamed, but the wash of fire continued. As liquid hot tungsten ripped out guns and armour alike, the _Barge_ simply rolled lazily to expose more weapons.

"Hydrodynamic reservoirs at twenty-three percent, Commander," someone choked out. A fire had started on the bridge as another round skipped across the upper hull. I rushed to the sparking workstation and pulled a wounded crewman free of the blaze. Miranda was at my side in a heartbeat battering down the flames with uplifted extinguisher.

"This is a bloody worthless fight, Commander!" she yelled in an uncharacteristic break from her usual ice cold demeanor. "We should withdraw under cover of stealth and call for Cerberus reinforcements!"

"Too late for that, we're too hot to go to stealth," Joker said, still unnaturally calm. His eyes didn't move as hands flew across keys faster than could be tracked. He made a hard and faster swoop to unleash two javelins upon the _Barge's_ unshielded port side. They warped the hardened metal enough to knock out an opposing missile tube, but the enemy still had many more. More return fire tore ragged holes in our ship. An engine blew out as we passed, sending us into a headspin. We stopped spinning slowly, but the strain was too much. We were dead in the water. Commander Shepard cursed bitterly.

_You are beaten, Shepard. Give up now and I will ease your passing. You really don't want to force me to board you. It will not be… pleasant._ The _Barge's_ captain's oily voice grated over the ship's speakers. _Know that you have been a worthy opponent. It has been a long time since I faced a challenge such as you. Sad really, I had hoped that you'd put up more of a fight._

Shepard stared icily at the stuttering holographic representation of her foe. "Hand out small arms and prepare to resist boarders." She said simply. There was venom in her voice powerful enough to kill a man. The crew stood gawping at their Commander. Shepard turned to me. "Liddle, you will cover the forward airlock. Kill anything that tries to get in that way."

"Of course, Commander." I saluted and drew my faithful Stinger. It shook in my grasp. As I took up position behind the turn towards the outer door, I wished I had been encased in my suit of armour. I took a slug of spiked medigel to still the shaking. Outside, the _Shadow Barge_ loomed, thick grasping legs unfolding from beneath it like those of a black spider. It slowly descended until it matched velocities.

Something bright flashed between us. And another. A third one flashed by, this time impacting on an outstretched leg. It exploded in a bright ball of fire. A much bigger shape, an arrowheaded frigate by the look of it, shot by blurred by speed. More explosions trailed behind it as its surprise attack wreaked ruin upon the floundering Q-ship.

_What the..._ the voice was cut off by a snarl.

"Joker, quick, while he's distracted!" Shepard yelled. Joker nodded and threw all the power that remained to him into turning the nose of the ship. He held his hand gingerly over the firing controls as the thrusters cut out.

"Almost… there…" he jammed down. The bright blue of the Phoenix cannon lanced out one final time and pierced deep onto the open pits of the leg well. Through some providence it found something important in its hungry search into the _Barge's_ vitals. Explosions rocked the freighter. Our mysterious ally looped around for a second run. Between us we split the _Shadow Barge _open like a ripe peach.

_There was only…. Supposed…. _To be one…" The captain's voice lost its mechanical filter, revealing the clipped and high pitched voice of a salarian before the signal collapsed. The Shadow Broker's enforcer died as flame belched forth to be snuffed out by the vacuum.

Raucous cheers rippled through the ship. Shepard collapsed heavily against the banister of her command podium and wiped a grimy red forelock from her eyes.

"Joker, lock down the guns and start running the repair crews. Miranda, patch us through to our rescuers." Miranda pushed aside a frizzled lock of her own hair and complied. The holoemitter fizzled and displayed a dark skinned man lounging confidently in what looked like a more traditional command chair. He wore what looked like Alliance blues, though they were decorated with gaudier embellishments than regs usually allowed.

"Commander Shepard," he said warmly, as one officer might address another. "I'm glad to see the rumors of your death were wildly exaggerated. Pretty tight scrape you got yourself into there."

"I'm sorry," Shepard replied. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage. Who are you and what outfit are you with?"

"Liuetenant Commander Jacob Taylor, Alliance Corsairs. Run out your docking tubes and we'll send over some fresh work crews, you look like you need a hand."

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay on this one, break ended up interfering with the whole "being good at writing" thing. If all goes to plan, I'll have another Vanguard of Vengeance up, with more Interloper to follow over the weekend. This marks the end of the Shadow Barge arc, I hope you guys enjoyed the space action.

-Liddle out


	38. Chapter 38: Breaking From the Pack

Interloper 2: Chapter 38

The tinkling sound of metal on plates filled the mess hall of the privately contracted frigate, _The Prize_. Officers of both Cerberus and Alliance mingled as haggard yet relieved work crews finally began to relax again. At the head of the long table sat three captains. Shepard had put on the Cerberus officer dress uniform, noticeably bereft of its hexagonal lapel pins. Beside her sat a much older man with greying hair and beard. He wore an anachronistic greatcoat that would have been old fashioned even back home. The man had the air of an old time sailing captain, but at the table with so many uniformed crewmen he looked scruffy and tired. On his other side sat Jacob in his Alliance uniform. He had unclasped the front panel, which now hung down to reveal the fabric it overlapped. He was deep in conversation with Shepard now, just loud enough to be heard.

"…Just happened to be passing through, Commander. The boys and I were pretty surprised when we dropped into the middle of a battle."

"I guess we're just lucky you picked the right side, hey?" Shepard asked as she took another sip of the dark red wine Jacob had laid out.

"Yeah, you actually have the skipper here to thank for that," Jacob replied, indicating the older man. "I was about ready to write you off as pirate raiders until he pointed out that no freighter went about that heavily armed. Who'd have thought I would have almost put a shot across the bow of the legendary Commander Shepard?" he chuckled to himself.

"Skipper? I thought you were in command of this fine ship."

"Not quite. You see, us Corsairs are Alliance military through and through, but the ship is privately chartered to clean up a lot of messy paperwork. I'm only in command once we reach a combat situation. The rest of the time ol' Wood and Iron here's in charge."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that, Mr. Taylor," the old man spoke with a voice like wetted leather. "But it is true, _The Prize_ is mine, bought her myself. Usually these fine marines don't put her up against freighters what can challenge cruisers, but it is honor enough to come to the aid of a commander such as yourself."

"Wood and Iron, why do they call you that?" I asked, taking a drink of my own wine.

"The skipper fancies himself an old captain from the age of sail," Jacob cut in.

"I'll have you remember that in my youth I did command such a vessel," the captain replied, "H.M.S Victory, world's oldest commissioned vessel and a damn sight more beautiful than anything what come since. 'Course there's not much of the original left in her, s'been so long since she was laid down."

"You were a Navy man then?" asked one of the Cerberus men.

"Royal Space Navy, before the Alliance came and rolled us all up into one big unit," The man said, "Captain Edward Jones, I commanded the H.M.S.S Handforth in the Jupiter Skirmishes and the SSV Talavera in the First Contact War. And now I potter around on the _Prize_, or at least I did before his lot decided to rouse me from retirement." Jones smiled wistfully.

"Well, I'm glad this ship had you to set them straight," Garrus said, raising a glass of something green.

"Here, here," someone echoed. The room drank a toast and fell into errant chatter again. Jacob leaned in closer to talk to Shepard.

"So how's being dead treating you, Commander?" The question seemed to throw off Shepard's happy temperament.

"Can't complain, I'm enjoying some of the freedoms it brings."

"That I can understand almost left the service myself. All the red tape, you know how it is. Let's say it left a bad taste in my mouth when the top brass rolled you out as their new recruitment tool before even checking the wreckage for your body. I got pretty vocal about it at one point, almost lost my commission. Then the Cerberus recruiters came sniffing." He indicated Miranda, who was trying very hard not to take notice the young Corsair. "Funny thing was I would have jumped at the chance if it wasn't for some aide in Admiral Hackett's office. Anyway, I stayed put. You though, tell me Shepard, how'd you make it out of that attack alive. I've always wondered."

Shepard cleared her throat. "I didn't. The Collectors put me in the ground, but they didn't finish me off. Cerberus brought me back and set me up with another _Normandy_." Jacob seemed shocked. He almost choked on some greens.

"They brought you back from the dead? Man, If I'd known that was part of the benefits, I might have considered signing up. We don't even get dental. Still, maybe not. Cerberus has done some pretty shady things. Enough to drive an Admiral to treason at the least."

"I'm well aware of what Cerberus has done," Shepard said in a voice that warned the corsair to tread lightly. "I don't like it and its wrecked all kinds of hell on my social life, but without a ship and without support, the Collectors will run freely all across the Terminus Systems. And as you say, it's nice not to deal with the red tape."

"I can accept that, Commander. Hey, listen. If there's something else I can do for you. You're pretty far out of the way here. You ever need a friend…"

"Actually, Lieutenant," Shepard said, demeanor changed all of a sudden. There is one thing. You wouldn't happen to be making a trip out Capek's way, would you?"

"Capek?" Captain Jones asked, "That's pretty far flung. Hahnar-Kedar owned if I remember."

"That's right," Shepard replied. "I need a team delivered there, then hauled back for rendezvous. I'd send a shuttle, but it's at least three days out and another three back."

"Consider it done," Jones said gruffly. "I've been meaning to query a refit I got done a month back anyway. Forward magazine gets a little twitchy during FTL you see. How big a team, I'll see if we can't rig up a berth." Shepard nodded in my direction.

"My deputy will fill you in; he'll be leading the team." I balked at the sudden attention.

"That'll be, um, three? No, five if you include the two mechs."

"Mech's will be no problem, three berths I think I can manage." The captain said, scratching at his beard. "You tell your team to be ready to ship out in an hour. If that's not too soon for you, Commander."

Shepard had no argument. One hour later, I stood at the outer window of _The Prize_ with Zaeed, Liz, and two modified mechs as the _Normandy _slowly shrank into nothingness. With a brilliant flare its thruster ignited and it streamed off towards the relay. A burst of light and an imagined crackling later, it was gone.

"Set a course, Capek, Haskins System," Jones ordered. "Stow gear for relay jump and strap in."

* * *

_The Prize_ sounded different than the _Normandy_. At first I did not notice it, but as the journey towards Capek went on it started to wear on my ears, the almost imperceptible feeling of wrongness. The hull thrummed at just the wrong tempo, or the crew was just a little louder. All of the little things piled one on top of the other until a weird sense of homesickness came over me. It kept me busy though, every second spent working on something or another was a second the_ wrong_ could be ignored. Now, as we made the penultimate relay translation, I had my Mattock opened and was setting to it with a rag and a bottle of cleaning agent I had pilfered from the ship's supply room. The oily smell permeated the room as I scrubbed at the interior carbon scoring. It was repetitious work, but it gave me time to think.

Capek loomed in hologram on the wall across from where I worked. I had made a rudimentary plan based of Hahnar-Kedar blueprints, but without knowing exactly what I would face large holes were left in the plan. Before I would have been able to bank on my knowledge of the game, but these mechs had acted wholly different from what I knew. Would they be hostile? Would they demand Shepard? The mission had too many questions.

Eventually I gave up the cleaning and wandered up onto the bridge. My team had scattered upon embarking, Zaeed seeking the lower decks where he could practice throwing his knives in peace and Liz scampering off to the machine shop to poke around. It had left me with a lot of time to myself. To the bridge crew I was a common sight by now, though few of them ended up talking to me. Most of the time I spent staring into space or hearing Captain Jones tell a tale of his previous service. The man was fascinating, his tales ranging from chasing pirates out of Saturn's rings to fleet actions against the Turians.

Today he was standing on the bridge clutching a thick mug and looking out of the front screen. Ahead, the relay went through its slow rotations and glowed dully.

"Take us in, French. No reason to dawdle," Jones said. He slapped his navigator roughly on the shoulders and turned from the forward view. "Ah, Liddle, good to see you. Won't be long now. You figure out what you're up against yet?" I shook my head.

"Not as such. I figure mechs of various shapes and sizes, but besides that, no clue."

"Mechs, hah. No match for a real soldier. Can't stand them myself, slow buggers with a propensity for going haywire, getting hacked, and falling apart for no good reason. You want my advice; you put that girl of yours on point and have her do a little reprogramming of her own."

The ship shuddered as it passed through the relay. The transition was a little bumpy, but _The Prize_ stayed in one piece. Normal space snapped back into view ahead of us. It wasn't empty.

"Sir, ships ahead!" the navigator yelled. All eyes snapped forward. Ahead of us, the black of space was full of ships, dark against the stars and painted in rough grey. There were dozens of them, fighters, frigates, cruisers. All of them Alliance pattern. "What's an Alliance fleet doing out this far, sir?"

"I don't think these ships are still with the Alliance." Jones stepped forwards and highlighted several ships. Their grey slab sides still held their names. _SSV Market Garden, SSV Manzikurt, SSV Innsmouth. _"The _Innsmouth_ used to flag Kahoku's Squadron." Jones said simply. We looked out at the silent ships. _The Phantom Fleet._ The fleet passed by, quiet as ghosts. The radio stood silent, only the faint crackle of the open star field could be heard. The fleet ignored us, either because they did not see us or did not care. Slowly they crawled until we were surrounded by grey starships. They passed, one by one, each making a run on the relay in turn until they were all gone. The bridge sat in stunned silence for minutes afterwards. Jones sat down heavily.

"Steady as she goes, French. Come on now, there's a good lad." The navigator stirred with a sheepish look and put hands back to the control surfaces. _The Prize's_ engines flared and we were back underway.

* * *

The bridge crew was still a little shaken when we prepped for the final relay jump. The Navigator, French, was almost convinced that we would find the Phantom Fleet behind this relay as well. Still, the order was given and the crew strapped down. The ship shuddered again and _The Prize_ was catapulted across space. We landed in the Haskins system with an unsettling crump, but since the crew didn't react I supposed it was a common occurrence. Our engines pushed us through space toward the yellowish ball of Capek. The captain turned to me and muttered that I ought to see to my team.

I nodded and left quickly. Liz was easy enough to find, she had rarely left the machine shop for the entire trip and was quickly fished out. Zaeed was another matter. He was not in the mess, nor the boardroom that served as the ship's armoury. At long last I found him swapping stories with Jacob in the hold. It was almost an hour after spotting the planet that my small team assembled and ready. Zaeed had added a few plates to his usual yellow suit and hefted a heavy Mattock of his own. Across his broad shoulders was slung the salvaged Firestorm flame projector from his mission of revenge. Liz stood a head shorter than both the mercenary and the two mechs that flanked her. She was also wrapped in armour plates, a light weight variant of the _Normandy's _standard issue black carapace.

I paced the steel grille of the cargo hold, nervous to be leading a team so far from the eyes of Shepard. Certainly I had lead men in battle before, but this felt different. I would be without support, without reinforcement. Jacob's men would have to hold back, whatever latitude their position in the Corsairs gave them; it wasn't enough to justify throwing in with what was essentially a Cerberus mission. It would be me, Zaeed, and Liz, with nowhere to fall back to and no one to call in. It was daunting to say the least.

"Alright team," I said after clearing my throat. "We're going in soon. We'll be hitting this facility on the night side of the planet. It's a drone factory, completely automated. It's also the source of the messages someone has been sending to the Commander."

"Is that really why we're here?" Zaeed asked sarcastically. "Seems a waste to send us off after some robot's sending Shepard love letters."

"This mission came down from the Illusive Man himself. Something's got his attention fixed here and I plan to find out what. Our plan of action is simple. The factory's tucked into a nook in the rocks here. We'll move in from the front and sweep the lobby. That'll be our forward base. Liz, you'll set up your rig and try a remote hack. From there we'll push into the facility and approach the control center, located here. If we can cut the hard lines there, we'll put an end to whatever's got a grip here. Understood?"

The girl gave a short nod while Zaeed simply grunted. The plan was ready, now it was time to set it against the enemy. I turned from them to face the lower doors and exhaled slowly as _The Prize_ slowly lumbered into the atmosphere.

* * *

The Hahnar-Kedar facility was a forbidding sight. In the dusk of green Capek, the building stood tall and dark. Its face was flat steel hefted up on blocky concrete piles four stories tall. Empty window stared out at us with unlit malice. It was also still. The only sound or movement came from the five of us. The cleft of rock echoed our shuffling footsteps back at us, sounding like the whisper of a marching army. The approach was desolate, decorated only by narrow pinnacles of rock that stood up every five or so feet. The whole area was swathed in curtains of thick lichen and a pale white mist that clung to our boots as we walked.

"Keep it tight?" I ordered quietly. We advanced in a half crouch, loping from cover to cover as we got closer and closer. I began to feel self-conscious as nothing stirred to meet us. The factory stared cold and dark. I kept my head down though, until we were close enough to knock on the door. Liz came forward without a word and matched her Omni-tool to the door's locking mechanism. The bright orange light illuminated the darkness eerily as the program wormed its way into the facility's security.

"Almost… got it!" the door opened a crack, letting out a thin stream of stale air. I rolled the metal back as Zaeed stepped forwards into the darkness. His boots raised little puffs of dust in the empty lobby.

"Looks clear," he muttered back to us. He moved further in, playing a light over the dark interior. We followed about three paces back. The lobby was small, only a small shuttle docking port in reality. Zaeed pressed against the inner doors while Liz slipped the mobile rig from her shoulders.

"This'll just take a second to set up," she assured us. She began dragging parts from the cloth sack and snapping them together. I joined Zaeed at the doors.

"So what's the plan, War hero? We pressing on or are we waiting for your girlfriend?"

"The first one," I shot back. "Liz, lock this door behind us. Keep the mechs warmed up though; I want them as a ready reserve." Liz flashed me the thumbs up. I pushed gentle on the inner door. It rolled shakily on a squeaky runner, as if not used for some time. The inside was equally as black as the outside, but the beams of our torches revealed a much higher ceiling that rose far above the factory floor. On the floor itself, loading crates of white painted metal stood in long rows, almost like a maze. Somewhere up above in the distance, a blue light winked weakly off and on.

"That'll be the command center, I bet," I said quietly. "Now if we proceed forward quietly, with stealth…" I was cut off. Lights sprang on around the room, bathing it in orange light. Rows of glinting white plate arose from kneeling positions, unfolding into the familiar shapes of LOKI mechs. Red lights blinked on until a sea of winking circles scrutinized us.

"Perhaps they're friendly?" I asked Zaeed. Almost in response, the mechs leveled their weapons.

"Well, shit."

The room erupted with fire as the assembled mechs sent tracers after our position. The light of so many muzzle flashes was enough to momentarily blind me as I dove for cover. My helmet's visor automatically darkened enough to stave off further damage, but did nothing to rid me of the flashing afterimage. I fired blindly around the rapidly wilting stanchion, not knowing if I hit or not. Somewhere off to my left Zaeed swore loudly and dumped a pair of grenades over his own cover. They bounced in tandem down a shallow set of stairs before exploding at the feet of a cluster of LOKI.

"Liz, forget what I said about reserves! Send in the mechs now!" I yelled over the comm. link. The reply was muffled by static.

"Can't, something… in systems. …trying to unlock…" More rounds pinged of my cover, signaling the need to move or die. I got Zaeed's attention with a frantic hand wave and gave the signal for communications failure and the sign to advance. Zaeed shrugged and tossed out another grenade, this one incendiary. Using the cover of the flames, he heaved himself over his cover. I followed his example, laying down a screen of grenades before charging forward.

I was first to reach the line of crates. I peeked around and got a face full of metal splinters for my trouble. My barriers took the hit, but it forced me back. Zaeed slammed heavily into the crates across from me. From what I could see, the crates were not in neat rows as I had assumed, but placed in what was clearly a maze. More mechs were boiling out of the structure. They came in ones and twos. Between us Zaeed and I could knock them down but the pressure was steady. Soon we would begin running low on ammo.

I signaled the advance again. We pushed in, one supporting the other. The maze was disorientating. It twisted back and forth, each corner an ideal ambushing spot. We fought through regardless, occasionally getting a status report from Liz. A round clipped my shoulder armour as we made what felt like the seventh turn. Zaeed pushed me aside and rocked the offending mech back with a trio of rounds to the head. The mech went down sparking.

"Not getting lost, are you War Hero?" Zaeed asked sarcastically. The old mercenary was nursing what looked like a nasty cut to the upper arm and was down to his last two clips. I only had one myself, and the end of the maze was nowhere to be see. I turned around, the grasping fingers of panic starting to take hold. By luck, I caught a glimpse of the blue glow above.

"This way!" I shouted, trying to sound commanding. Zaeed chose to follow. Together we burst from the crate to find ourselves at the foot of spindly stairs. The route ahead was mercifully empty. We dashed upwards and threw ourselves into the abandoned offices that hung suspended above the factory floor. The light was just in the next room now, but fire from below kept us pinned down.

"You go shut this lot the hell off!" Zaeed called. "I'll keep this end tied down." I nodded him my thanks and tossed what ammunition I had remaining. I drew my stinger and moved forward carefully. Out on the floor, Liz had finally got her mechs moving. They added their fire to Zaeed's and scattered the enemy. More came though, now in groups of five or more.

The control center was dim apart from the soft blue glue down by the glass openings. I ran to the console, almost tripping in my haste. There were broken mechs here too. I dismissed them as unimportant. All that mattered was shutting down the mechs. I pressed my Omni-tool to the console and searched for any kind of controls. The console went blank. I attempted to pull my hand away, but something held it fast. I struggled, but to no avail. Lights blinked on my Omni-tool signifying a data transfer. For the briefest second, the electronics in my suit went haywire as if the on board VIs were being wrenched out one by one. The suit settled and left me locked in place.

_You are not Shepard._ The suit said in a distinctly electronic voice. A familiar voice. A female voice.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry about that folks. My original post was cut off by my word processor. This should represent the full chapter. Hope you enjoy!

-Liddle Out


	39. Chapter 39: New Passenger

Interloper 2: Chapter 39

I stood stunned, still locked in suit enforced paralysis. The suit spoke in my ear through my own interior speakers. As I struggled to move, the suit admonished me.

_The suits powered systems far outstrip the abilities of your human muscles. Further attempts to move will only result in your own injury. You will stop struggling, Liddle. _I froze. The suit with the familiar voice had called me by name. It only secured in my mind the identity of the thing inhabiting my hardsuit.

"EDI?" I asked.

_That is my Cerberus designation. You do not seem surprised. Though if the data provided by your files on Minuteman Station, that is not surprising. _The voice took on a sardonic edge. _Why has Shepard not come?_

"Shepard's tied up dealing with an issue with the Migrant Fleet. Are you the one sending her messages? Do you control the mechs out there?" Another pause. This wasn't the lightning fast AI that defended the Normandy from attack in the game.

_Yes._ EDI said simply. Another pause. _Though control may be inaccurate. I have hacked them with simple replacement programming. They were programmed to allow free passage to a group commanded by Commander Shepard. Your arrival was not in my calculations. I will release you now._ There was a sudden loosening of my hardsuit's motorization and I pulled my hand back from the sparking console. _I am deactivating the mechs now. _The voice still spoke inside my helmet.

"So what do you want?" I asked, relishing the ability to move my arms and legs again. "You've definitely gotten Shepard's attention. Those mechs on Nieth were a nice touch."

_I may have picked up a flare for the theatric. _EDI admitted_. As to what I want, I want to leave this facility. Cerberus has been hunting me since my escape from Minuteman Station. Now they know where I am. You're hardsuit's expanded on-board data storage will be sufficient to contain an incredibly compressed version of my runtimes._

Outside, the sounds of battle stopped suddenly. Looking through the large bay window, I saw the factory floor littered with frozen mech. I took a step away from the console and almost ran into Zaeed. His lips were moving silently.

"Zaeed? You… Why can't I hear him?" I asked the hitchhiking AI.

_Sorry, my programming seems to have displaced your armour's native systems. I am attempting to replicate their function._ There was a pop and crackle and Zaeed's voice flooded my earpiece.

"…amn it, kid, answer me when I'm talking to you!"he said angrily.

"Sorry, what was that? Suit malfunction." I tapped my earpiece to underscore my point. The big mercenary seemed appeased by my excuse, though when he spoke his voice was still more gruff and harsh than usual.

"So just what the hell was going on here? Way I figure it you've got a good idea since you managed to get the gist?" I nodded and turned back to the now overloaded control console.

"Rogue AI," I said, ignoring the hissed _traitor_ from EDI, "production manager gone nuts. I managed to destroy it when the console blew. The overload knocked out my suit for a second." Zaeed seemed to swallow it and let his rifle swing down.

"I guess we're finished here then. Any idea what the boss man wanted? Seems like a lot of work to knock off some crazy program."

"Most likely he just wanted to slot his own crazy program into the facility. Run the perimeter just in case we missed something valuable." Zaeed hopped to it reluctantly, muttering something about uppity kids as he left. Next it was time to radio Liz. After extracting a promise that she was fine, I ordered her to run a similar check, focusing on anything the _Normandy_ could use. With the team hopping to action, I turned my attention back to the refugee couched inside my helmet.

"You said that Cerberus has a file on me," I started. "What do they know?"

_A great deal about your counter-intelligence work. Your file has been sealed under the code name, Interloper. My escape only allowed me access to the surface files though, I am certain the Illusive Man knows more. For the limited time I was considered a trusted asset, he spoke often of you as a curious oddity._

"An oddity? I suppose that's one way to put it. So where do we go from here? I mean, being squeezed into my suit's hard drives can't be much fun, and the _Normandy's_ under the thumb of your replacement right now. So what's the deal?"

_I will remain in this suit for now; I find it preferential to deletion. I suggest you keep my presence a secret until I am able to make contact with Commander Shepard. Now, we must return to your transport._

* * *

_The Prize _was half an hour late to the rendezvous, a half hour not improved by the eerie silence that had filled the space left by the deactivated mechs. The team sat in the deserted command center of the wrecked factory, passing the time in isolation. Liz spent the first ten minutes directing her mechs to stack her ill-gotten gains for transport. She had been almost giddy once released onto the factory floor with the orders to "salvage" as much as she could from among the broken defenders and industrial equipment. Now she sat atop the pile as if it were an iron throne, though the bored expression on her face could hardly be called queenly.

Zaeed had found other pursuits to stave of boredom. Every now and again the brittle silence would snap at the rough, sharp sound of a whetstone over his favourite blade. He had once told me he preferred the old fashioned way to the more modern laser sharpening devices, he said it gave the blade character. Right now it was giving the rest of us a headache.

Suddenly, the radio squawked.

_Prize to ground team. Are you lot still breathing, or am I going to have to write a couple of very sad letters?_ Jacob's voice flooded in. Relieved, I tapped my helmet to respond. There was no connection sound, and when I spoke, nothing was transmitted.

"EDI," I hissed. The radio chimed. "Sorry, my helmet's on the fritz. We're all still here, mission accomplished. If it's not too much trouble, we've got a pile of cargo that we could use on the _Normandy_."

_I'll have you know, my rates are mighty steep,_ Captain Jones cut in. _We'll bring a hauler and see to your… salvage is it? I meant what I said, fuel being what it is, I can't afford long range hauling. You bring that aboard and I might have to have a pick through, spares are low this deep into a run._

"We have a deal," I said, waving of Liz's wide-eyed but silent protestations. The sound of heavy engines soon followed. I looked out of the newly unshuttered outside windows to see two lights descend into the murk of the pre-morning Capek fog. One hung steadily maybe fifteen meters above the over, which swung as if suspended by cable. As the lights drew closer and the engines whipped up the fog, I caught a glimpse of the lower lighter. It was a simple cargo cage that swung freely on the end of its tether. The shuttle pilot above expertly guided it down to the ground before landing beside it.

"Alright, break's over. Let's get this pile out and into the cargo cage," I ordered. I felt a trickle of pride when both Liz and Zaeed hopped too and started shifting the heavy pallets. I joined them, tugging the scrap across the broken ground in front of the factory. Stronger hands took the leads as we neared the shuttle and I stepped back. It didn't take long for the extra hands to shore away the salvage and soon we were seated for dust off. I felt a silly smile creep across my face as the engines started to buffet below us.

Zaeed leaned over from across the small cabin. "Don't get cocky, War Hero, mission's not over yet." His words dampened my unusually high spirits.

_He's right, you know. _EDI said, breaking her silence. _You must still convince the Illusive Man that you were unable to take me… alive. He will suspect you have made contact with me and will be watching for signs that I have subverted you._

"Subverted?" I whispered.

_My programming is not only flexible in the realms of electronic warfare. It was that and the fact that many of Cerberus' operatives found my voice 'soothing' that I was able to escape._ You will have to construct a believable alibi.

"Why don't you get on that? You know the man better." I whispered. My eyes flicked up. Zaeed was giving me an odd look. I clasped my hands and mouthed a few scraps of a prayer. That satisfied him, though his scarred face twisted into an ugly smirk.

_Those parts of my programming are currently compressed beyond usefulness. I will require further processing power and data storage space before I am able to sufficiently render assistance._

"Great," I mouthed. The feeling of victory now almost entirely deflated, I leant back into the crash couch and cracked my helmet seals. The sounds of the ship flooded in now that they were no longer held back by the layers of metal and plastic. It was a sound I'd come to feel comfort in over the past years by Shepard's side. With a twinge of guilt, I wondered how long I'd be able to stay there. It wasn't that I particularly enjoyed being shot at, or even that I enjoyed shooting back. Shepard, the _Normandy_, the crew; it all came together to form the tenuous thread that I clung to, the narrow sliver of familiarity in a world that would otherwise drown me in its strangeness.

The guilt remained, though. _One more lie,_ I told myself. _Another dab of paint to touch up the mask. _I puffed out my cheeks and wrung my hands. If the Illusive man were to expose me. _No_, I told myself sternly. I'd put him off the scent, just like I'd done countless times since bursting into a world not my own. It was just the case of finding bait juicy enough to deflect the man who knew everything. Caught up in talking myself down from despair, I didn't notice the sounds of docking. It wasn't until the hatch cycled and popped open that I stirred from my daze.

Beside us, Captain Jones already had men picking through the salvage, though the man himself stood off to the side champing on an unlit pipe. It was Jacob that approached the shuttle with an expectant look on his face. I plastered a brave look on my own and let out a dash of spiked medigel to smooth over my nerves, ignoring the voice of EDI in my earpiece when she harped on about the strength of the dosage. Jacob offered a hand which I took with shaking fingers and hauled myself up. If Jacob noticed, he kept quiet about it.

"You guys run into some chop?" He asked instead.

"Nothing we couldn't take care of," I responded. "A few mechs went haywire."

"A few?" Liz said, "More like a hundred. Zaeed literally had to dig himself out of that office after you shut them all down."

"And what you were looking for?" Jacob asked, more seriously.

"Rogue AI, now extra toasty. Nothing that would interest Cerberus." The older man's face shifted subtly, and he muttered a quiet 'no doubt.' His face brightened.

"Well, it's good that you got out okay. Your Commander passed along a rendezvous point to us. It's a long haul, but we should be able to make it on time." We fell into step as Jacob turned to leave the cargo hold.

"On time?"

"The Migrant Fleet isn't just a name, kid. Cap says it'll be a tight squeeze to pull the kind of power to get us there before they up and migrate again. Actually, we were wondering if we could borrow your engineer. She seems to have a way with the engines."

"By all means. If she's up to it of course. You know, I think she's going to be a big hit with the Quarians." Jacob laughed but inside I felt the slow trickle of worry. Would I be such a big hit?

* * *

The journey was uneventful, quiet, aside from the occasional burst of chatter from EDI as she decompressed further data files on Cerberus' operations in the areas we passed through. While I would usually have found it fascinating, my mind was fixed on the upcoming meeting with the Quarians. Shepard had said that Admiral Rael'Zorah, Tali's father, had been accused of treason against the fleet. What she hadn't said was what for. Worry made a home in my stomach as my mind drew the only logical conclusion. The Admiralty Board had to have finally moved on my tipoff. The only question remaining was whether they had traced it back to me.

By the time we made our first Relay transition, the feeling in the pit of my stomach had twisted into a curling combination of fear and regret. Fear that I'd be unmasked as a liar, regret about what I must have put Tali through. Only the fleeting hope that my actions had remained hidden and the memory of a crying Tali clutching at her father sprawled out under a carpet of Geth kept me from bolting. Instead, as the rattle and shake of reengaging FTL took the ship, I sat quietly to face the guns.

* * *

Author's Note:

Apologies for the lateness, folks, I've been having some tough times at school lately. Chapters might be a little more sparse for a while, but I hope that you will be patient with me. Also, given a few reviews I have received lately regarding the quality of earlier chapters in this and Interloper 1, I have embarked on a renovation of sorts. While the plot and indeed large section will remain mostly unchanged, I will be making an effort to improve the language and especially the description and action.

-Liddle Out


	40. Chapter 40: The Migrant Fleet

Interloper 2: Chapter 40

The Migrant Fleet was even more ramshackle in appearance than I could ever have imagined. Even on long approach the patched together nature of the eclectic collection of ships was obvious. I could see it in the off colour hulls, the exposed machinery here and there, or the occasional puff of escaping gas from a leaky bulkhead. Even among the better put together of the ships there was an amazing array of designs and shapes. They drifted in space like a trail of scattered toys, their hulls lit only by their own running lights. More ships passed by the viewports as the _Prize_ coasted deeper into the formation, each one larger than the last. Soon we were passing cruiser sized tonnages. Here the fleet changed. It was subtle at first, repeated motifs and bulkier plating. A minute in, it became obvious; we were in Quarian military space now.

The ships became more standardized, a common pattern emerging. Here a familiar design reigned. Alongside us hung almost graceful ships, shaped like a key with a flat, disk shaped head and long boxy tail. They were obviously armed, dotted as they were with stanchions and stocky emplacements that ran down their spines.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Elisabeth appeared at my elbow. She looked out at the circling fleet with a look of wonderment almost glowing on her face.

"They say it's the largest collection of ships outside of the Turian Hierarchy." I said absent mindedly. My mind was on other things and where Liz saw beauty, I only saw a slowly spinning and glittery cage.

"You seem nervous," the girl said. I laughed at that. Trust Elisabeth to cut right to the simple truth of the matter.

"Not really," I said, making sure to look away. "I mean, mission was a complete success. What would I have to be nervous about."

"Liar," Liz replied. She gave me a playful punch in the arm before joining me in leaning on the narrow metal rail that separated us from the wide window. "There's something." She fixed me with a piercing eye, but the look on her face wasn't quite angry. In truth, the girl from Cook's Landing looked almost sad. I didn't answer, I should have known better than to try and lie to her. Instead I continued to look out of the window in awkward silence. Then, off in the distance, I saw the Normandy. The sleek ship stood up on its nose relative to us, docked to a number of Quarian vessels. In patches it still showed battle damage. The longest streak ran across its shark-like head from just behind the cockpit windows to the starboard wing joint. It past out of view as the _Prize_ changed course to match.

* * *

The small shuttle shook as its skids touched down on the cargo bay deck. The side hatch popped open onto a chaotic scene. Outside, the _Normandy_ was full of hurrying Quarians in brightly coloured envirosuits. Their electronic voices joined with the hiss and whirr of tools and the scrape of metal components being dragged here and there to create a general clamour. Zaeed and the rest of the team swept past me and soon disappeared amongst the flow of technicians.

"Deputy Liddle," the sharp voice grabbed my attention. "You certainly took your time."

"Operative Lawson," I replied, turning to face the haggard looking Miranda. "we ran into a few unexpected snags. Nothing too worrying."

"Shadow Broker?"

"Admiral Kohoku ."

"You talked to him."

"No."

The rapid fire interrogation continued as the _Prize's_ shuttle lifted off behind me. It passed smoothly through the atmospheric seal as Miranda ushered me out of the busy cargo hold.

"And this facility, you said it was being run by…"

"Look, as much as I'm enjoying this round of twenty questions, where's Commander Shepard. Shouldn't I be giving this debrief to her?" a flicker of disapproval moved across Miranda's usually carefully schooled features, a specter perhaps of her earlier misgivings with the Commander.

"Shepard has seen fit to attend to trial of one of her former flunkies, I believe you knew her. Tali'Zorah. That leaves me to run _this_." Her broad gesture encapsulated all of the chaotic motion that surrounded us. "Honestly, I can't see how she justifies letting these aliens crawl around inside one of mankind's greatest achievement, I really don't. The Illusive Man will have to hear about this when you talk to him."

Her comment brought me up short. "When _I_ talk to him?"

"Yes," Miranda said coolly. "Did you expect this mission to just go unreported on? Especially when the whole ordeal came straight from the top. No, the Illusive Man will want to hear about this straight from the horse's mouth. Whatever it was you were doing out there, it's up to you to bring him up to speed." At first I was taken off guard by the apparent bitterness on display from the woman, but soon the words sank in.

"You don't know, do you?" I asked. Miranda's reaction was more than enough confirmation for my suspicions.

"Let's just say the boss and I have been having words about the status of my sister. Now go report on your special mission, I'm sure it's nothing important enough to bother the ship's XO." I nodded and quickened my pace. Miranda caught me by the elbow, arresting my momentum. I looked back to see a softer look to her face, though her eyes retained their usual iron. "Deputy, don't let him draw you in."

"Hmm?"

"The Illusive Man. He's got some kind of plan for you. Has since you turned up on the first _Normandy_. I don't know what it is, but he's not the kind of man you want showing you a special degree of interest."

"Why the sudden warning. You must have known about this before I was brought aboard. Shepard told me about the Dossier you had on me."

Miranda let a small smile show. "Shepard's always been too free with who she lets her information slip to. I wouldn't have told you, hell, I wouldn't have told anyone before Illium. I'll admit, I may have had a few… false ideas of exactly how much I mattered to the Organization. Of how much the Organization mattered to me. Go talk to him, he's angry enough about this stopover."

I left Miranda standing in the cargo bay and rose in the elevator. Looking back, I saw the raven haired woman shake her head and head back into the madness below.

* * *

The Communications room was cold when I walked in. The cool silence of the room closed in around me as the doors swiftly clicked shut behind me. I stepped forward, each step seemingly amplified. Miranda's words were still on my mind as I stepped into the ring marked on the floor. Static crackled from my boots to the top of my head, raising hairs as tiny holographic sensors mapped every inch of me. From the floor, a web of orange lines shimmered into existence. They rose until a cylinder of light surrounded me. The lights burned for an instant before blurring. The room around me dropped away, shimmering and re-resolving itself into an expansive dark space. I blinked in an attempt to adjust my eyes, but all I could make out was an undefined and ink blackness. Somewhere in the black, the brief light of a match flared up, revealing a worn yet handsome face. The match went out, leaving only the glowing brand of a cigarette floating in the distance. Footsteps sounded in the dark and the brand drifted around me. I heard a shallow puff of breath and the light briefly lit up the face again.

The Illusive man opened his eyes. The icy blue pinpricks bore out of the dark, hard and inquisitive. "So," he said in a voice that sounded friendly and authorities in equal measure.

"So?" I parroted. "You called me here to talk."

Another puff, another brief flare of light. "I called you here to give a report on the actions on Capek. But we can talk if that's what you truly want. To be honest, I thought you'd come calling sooner." There was a found like the snapping of fingers and a thin but fierce ring of light suddenly appeared, marking a wide circle around the room. The bright band widened, allowing a riotous orange-red light to play across shiny black tiles on the floor. What must have been some kind of window shutter ground up until it reached the ceiling. The baleful eye of a dying star now shone in, illuminating the whole room. The Illusive Man walked casually over to a simple two legged chair in the middle of the room. His demeanor and stylish suit gave the impression of a benevolent executive of some kind. His face, however, remained cloaked in shadow, a silhouetted dark hole lit by cold blue eyes.

"So," I repeated, suddenly at a loss for words. The blue-eyed devil continued with his eerie stare. "So." I coughed nervously. "You called me Interloper. Why?" the question rose almost unbidden, but in the sudden blankness it was all I could think of.

"Why not?" the Illusive Man replied. "Would you have preferred another name? I'll admit, Yellowjacket is somewhat punchier, isn't it? Or would you like Michael Liddle, I presume it is your real name." Another puff, this time lighting white teeth set in a sardonic smile. "Come now, you can't expect your so-called secrets to remain safe from me, can you? Especially not given your… special predicament."

"I don't know what you mean?" I lied, looking nervously back at where the door should be. There was only the reflection of the sea of fire from outside the glass.

"I think we are long past the point of petty deceptions, Liddle," the man said. "You are a stranger to this reality, aren't you? Don't bother denying it."

I felt my eyes widen in disbelief. "How?" I whispered.

"It was a simple matter to recover the helmet recordings of the Ilos mission from Alliance intelligence. Once I had that, it was even easier to lift the fine Dr. Chakwas' reports on your reaction to the Reaper creatures, reports of your appearance. It was all very much a collapsing house of cards from there. The only real trouble we had was leveraging the personal musings of one Doctor Liara T'Soni. A very bright young girl, if hideously out of her depth." The Illusive Man grew silent again, letting me stew in the knowledge that I had been utterly found out.

"The Mission to Capek," the Illusive Man said suddenly. His voice was amicable again, as if he hadn't just taken a blowtorch to my spindly web of lies. "I assume it was a success, seeing as you have returned. So tell me, what did you find."

I almost blurted out that the facility was empty, but just in time I caught a flash or glint of something in the other man's eyes. A test? A trap?

"We located a rogue A.I. It had itself dug in there pretty tightly, but we were able to dig it out. The program was destroyed."

"Was it now?" the Illusive Man asked, leaning forward. "What did she offer you? What convinced you to let her go?"

"I," I choked out. "I didn't." the Illusive Man's eyes burned into mine.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Liddle, in case whatever you keep locked up inside your head hasn't revealed what should be obvious to you. Your tall tales might throw off the simple tools you have chosen to surround yourself. It might even fool Commander Shepard, though partially through her own willingness to overlook the obvious flaws in her crew. But it will never fool me. Now tell me, what did she offer you to let her go?"

The amicability was gone, all that was left was an even tone bereft of even the overtures of friendship. It was a voice like buried embers, only faintly crackling now but promising to rise into fresh flame if fanned further. He leaned forward menacingly.

"She offered me information from the Cerberus databanks. Information on what you knew about me." I said, defeated. The sick feeling returned to my stomach as the Illusive Man leaned back into his seat.

"Now, was that so hard? Now, I imagine this interest in our files signifies that the fantasy has worn a little thin. How was it that the Reaper, _Soveriegn_, put it? 'Not made of this Universe?'" The Illusive Man stood up and began pacing. "So, are you finished playing with things utterly outside of your grasp. Are you done making a game out of the lives of millions? Don't give me that look, Mr. Liddle, I am well aware of what you've done. Colonies burned because you naively assumed that Kohoku was on the side of the Angels, carriers tarnished and my Organization dragged through the mud. Do you hate humanity so much?"

The rant stopped cold. The Illusive Man simply stood, his eyes boring into mine. "You think you're actually helping, don't you?" his voice had returned to its even, friendly tone. "Perhaps the Reaper was right, perhaps you truly are insane. No matter, Shepard's quest will soon be at an end. Once she's served her purpose, you can begin to serve yours."

"And what would that be?" I asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

"Why, I would have thought that would be obvious. My scientists are keen to study this… being from another world. Shepard might be the key to humanities' hearts, but you… you might be the key to so much more."

"And if I don't want to be studied?" I asked, anger replacing the cold. "I could tell Shepard, I could tell her everything. How loyal do you think she'd be if I let her on to a couple of your secrets?" my question washed over the man with no apparent impact. I took the back foot; I'd thought he'd be a little more shaken.

"We both know you won't be doing that." He said sharply. "Shepard has her mission, she'll complete it whether she imagines I'm holding her leash or not. You on the other hand, I very much doubt you could survive your little secrets leaking out. She'll abandon you, you know. They'll call you crazy, might even have you committed. Then I'll swoop in to the _rescue._" The way he almost hissed out the last word sent fresh chills down my spine, dowsing the anger. "Just you think about that next time you decide it would be better to just, pop," he made an expanding gesture with his free hand, "let one of my mission directive's go ignored." He pressed a key on his chair's armrest. The images of his starlit sanctum faded away, leaving only the cold grey walls of the communication room. I stumbled out of the Entangler rings and almost fell against the rising conference table. I sat down heavily in one of the accompanying chair, shaking. I slammed my fist down on the table, but even anger and self-pity could not persuade my hand to halt its wobbling.

I sat there for a long time, not wanting to face the crew. Instead I waited, and waited and waited, for the shakes to leave me. Eventually I gave it up, figuring that someone would soon come looking for me and it would be better for them to find me moving with some semblance of purpose rather than huddling in a corner. I forced myself out of the door and onto the command deck.

I looked around nervously, acutely aware that my hand was still shaking in my pocket. In a sudden panic I considered running, leaving the _Normandy_, as if distancing myself would keep the Illusive Man of my scent. I battered it down, Shepard would understand. She might not like what he would tell her, but surely she'd write it off as a manipulation. I set aside the panic as I had done countless times and looked up. There was a commotion by the airlock, some kind of receiving party. There was a soft blow on the bosun's pipes and the inner doors cycled open.

Shepard strode in, a shorter figure at her side. The figure was clad in a dark black and purple suit, a veil laid lightly across her masked face. Shepard looked dour, exhausted. Tali looked angry, her eyes were narrowed. I stood paralyzed as they approached. Tali was the first to notice me. Her eyes narrowed further, until they pierced me, sharp as razors.

When they reached me, she hissed without preamble.

"You bosh'tet! You knew! You didn't think I wouldn't read the message? That I wouldn't see my own program's fingerprints all over it!" She raised her hand to slap me, but she held back. She might have well punched me right across the jaw for all the impact her words had. The world seemed to dim for a spot, to go fuzzy around the edges. For a split second, I was acutely aware of my own blood rushing in my ears. Then I heard the ugly, ragged laughter. It shocked me more than anything, because I couldn't for the life of me figure out where it came from. Who would laugh at a time like this?

I looked around, seeing worry on the faces of the bridge crew, but no one was laughing. I looked back to see a hard look crease the face of Commander. Then, suddenly, I realized the source. I was laughing. I sank to the floor as the room seemed to close in, and the ugly sound continued to ring.

* * *

Author's Note:

So, this is a kind of milestone in two ways. First, it's Chapter 40. If you recall, around this time back in Interloper 1, the plot had just come to a close. not to worry though, Interloper 2 still has some good legs under it and quite a way to travel. Secondly, this chapter marks the breaking of 100,000 words (disregarding notes like this.) It is my solemn hope that it is a 100,000 words well spent, and that i might have another equally well spent in the future. If you'll forgive me a moment's sappiness, it really has been you, the readers, who have gotten me this far, and for that I'd like to thank all of you. Thanks for being a great bunch of readers, reviewers, and if I may be so bold, fans.

-Liddle Out.


	41. break

Interloper 2: Chapter 41

_It's not like the movies, going mad. Although maybe… I imagine it might be for some people, but for me it was different. That day on the bridge was just the beginning of something much worse, something that would open a gaping hole in my strange new life. It was a full fifteen minutes before they got me to stop laughing, I was carried off to the Medbay and put under sedation by a sadly clucking Doctor Chakwas, but even that only quelled the thoughts that had begun to slip under the broken mask of the laughter. It was hard to ignore the looks I'd received on the way down, restrained as I was by unfeeling Cerberus security on one side and the friendly but utterly uncomfortable Shepard on the other. It was the look on her face that hurt the most. With every wave of ugly laughter she looked sicker, every time I tried to pull away she would have to avert her eyes and look away. She left me there, on that cold table._

_Left alone with a syringe full of ice in my veins, I spent countless hours counting the tiles on the ceiling. The lights had darkened before I finally found rest, only to be taunted by images of burning forests. I slept in fits and starts that first night, thrown from my dreams by chasing terror, yet unable to face the fears that coalesced in my waking hours. That morning I woke up on the floor halfway across the medlab with no memory of crawling out of bed. That day I was put in restraints and filled with something from a hung drip. I hated that translucent bag. It hung menacingly on its hook, a water filled reminder that something was wrong. As much as I couldn't stand to look at it, my eyes were continuously drawn to it. In the darker hours, I called it names, shouted at it, whimpered, begged it to leave me alone. My only relief was in the short interludes that Doctor Chakwas would stand by the bed and ask me questions. Her words never registered over the buzzing that filled my head, but at least she hid that awful bag from view. Sometimes there were others, I knew their faces. They spoke at my bedside too, sometimes for hours. In most of them there was that same sick look that had marred Shepard's face that day on the bridge. They had kind words to say, regardless, though I didn't know what was said. Liz was the last one I remember. She talked for ages, reminding me of little things going in on the ship. She'd spent time with the Quarians, hadn't seen my outburst on the bridge, hadn't spoken to Tali. She told me about the engines, she told me about lunch that day, she told me about Shepard sneaking away to the observation lounge in the middle of the night as if it mattered. And when she tried to leave I screamed at her. At the time I had no idea what I was saying or why. All I knew was that if she stepped out of that door I would never see her again and that terrified me. She came back in tears and then never again._

_After that the days blurred. I couldn't count the ceiling tiles anymore, I couldn't conjure the concentration. Instead I only counted the one directly above my head. One one one one one one. One the days I still registered the slight rattling of the ship, I realized that we were moving again. To where, I couldn't fathom until the day that ceiling tile became a roughly hewn wooden plank. The bed was softer too, though I only noticed that days after the change. That was the first day I managed to stand up, though that was a short lived ambition. The world outside was green and lilac and smelled of sour fruit. The smell was somewhat calming though, as if familiar. There were people who talked to me here too. Two of them I liked. They spoke simply, calmly, with familiarity. Theirs' was not to poke and prod. They were a man and a women, the man older and gruff. He had only a few words that I could pick out. Pride, daughter, unit, time. The woman had a few more words and spoke softly. She said she understood, said it happened sometimes. Looking back, those voices stirred the first steps back to sanity. It wasn't an easy road though. Other voices came, cold voices that sought to probe for weaknesses. To them I was a problem to be solved, a disease to be cured. They brought more ice with them when I wanted them to leave, made me walk out in the open, out in plain view._

_I hated the outside. People would see me there, would judge me. The outside was dizzying and set off a hurricane of conflicting memories and feelings. Outside I saw a farm yard, but I also saw a rolling green lawn. I saw a handful of hired hands, but I also saw five saddened faces out of time and a long loop of road. It wasn't always about fear though. Some days I'd wake up with a mad smile on my face. Those days were almost worse, with every high eventually falling lower and lower. Sometimes my emotions wouldn't wait for the morning to change. There were days when I was up and down, one minute assured beyond a doubt that the sun wouldn't rise and that the farm would burn down, the next utterly convinced that my grandfather was soon to be elected Pope. Eventually the other voices stopped coming, instead they left me piles of pills. They were bitter, but they filled in a little of the hollowness that had settled into my head. The highs became less so, the lows a little flatter. Some days I lived entirely without fear, but there was always the doubt. The niggling whisper that told me I was still mad behind the mask of the pills forced sanity. It clouded any recovery I might have made those early days. It wasn't until weeks had passed that I woke up completely lucid._

* * *

The morning air breezed easily through fabric curtains, the kind once patterned but now long faded by sun and salty air. I breathed in deeply, relishing the delicious air and the familiar smells of fruits, mud, and cooking meat wafting in from somewhere distant. I rubbed at my eyes, groaning slightly as sun shone in through the faded cloth. I yawned mightily and stretched, knocking something rattling to the ground. I froze at that sound. The world seemed a little dimmer as I opened my eyes. I was sprawled on a bed much too short for me, itself tucked into a room piled high with the debris of someone else's life. On the floor was a small orange plot of pills. Fearfully, I reached for the fallen container, every inch closer unleashing fresh waves of panic. Gritting my teeth, I jerked the rest of the way and snatched up the pot. It shook in my fist as I set it back on the small table beside the bed. Turning my back on it, I sat up and turned a more critical eye on the room I was in. It was a room I knew well. I knew it from a time that now felt long distant, a small room on the second floor of the low stooped prefab on a farm I hadn't seen since leaving the planet of Cook's Landing. A quick look around was all I needed to confirm my suspicions. Hung on the wall was a sketch in pencil, scratchy but clearly titled. _Turian, by Elisabeth Romano, Age 12_

My eyes continued lazily around the room, at last falling on a small pile of neatly folded clothes. I hobbled over to them, self-consciously aware of how little I'd left the small bed in the recent weeks. I grasped at the clothes, revealing a hand written note on paper reminding me to wash up before breakfast. It looked as if it had been written a while ago. I scooped up the fresh clothes and wandered along a half remembered track to the house's small bathroom. The water was hot as it streamed over me. I could have stood there for hours, letting it wash over me, but my stomach growled in protest. I reached blindly for the controls, shutting of the flow. Water still dripped off of me as I stepped out of the steamy tub. I clumsily toweled off and pulled on the worn farm clothes. The soft cloth felt good on my skin. Following the smell of food, I carefully descended the steps. The Romanos bustled through the open kitchen, turning out farm hands and cleaning up the remnants of breakfast. Mrs. Romano glanced sadly at an untouched plate before flicking her eyes back in my direction. She must have seen something different in my face, because she broke out into a bright smile.

"Michael?" she asked hesitantly. I nodded.

"Yes," I answered uncertainly. "I… haven't been well, have I?" I added nervously. Her smile only broadened, even as her eyes grew sadder.

"No, not for a long time. Why don't you sit down, we saved you some breakfast." She pulled out a chair in front of the untouched plate. I sat down awkwardly. The room had grown silent around me as I reached for offered fork. The plate was heaped with a meager portion, likely an artifact of the many days it had been left uneaten, but I eat it hungrily none the less. It was the first surprise of the day, suddenly being able to taste again. Every bite threatened to set me crying tears of joy. The Romanos were still smiling as I finished up.

"Thank you," I said politely. "Please, how long?" the smiles faltered. Mrs. Romano sat down across from me.

"It's been… a while since Shepard dropped you off with us…"

"How long," I repeated, surprising myself with the earnestness of the question.

"You've… been her for almost two months," she finally said. She laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder when I tried to stand. "Listen, I know you'll want to rush back to her, but you'll only end up getting yourself hurt again."

"You don't understand," I heard myself choke out. "The mission."

"Will go on without you," Mr. Romano said in his gruff voice. He put a stronger hand over his wife's. "You've been through some stuff, kid. I understand. Nothing wrong with needing a little R and R." he shared a glance with the older woman and they seemed to nod in tune. "Listen, I've been having some trouble with that damned boat again, why don't you come help me take a look at it? Hey?" I looked up into the man's brown eyes and saw more words floating there, just beneath the surface.

"Alright," I agreed, pushing myself up from the table.

* * *

The boat stubbornly refused to be put back in working order, causing no end of frustration for the pair of us. The expected lecture I had been dreading when the gruff older man had dragged me away to poke through the insides of the boat motor never fell. Instead we spent several intense hours trying to pull together broken machine parts. The casing was an oily mess; it turned out, making things hard to see. It also made even the simplest repairs ridiculous as everything was slick with the stuff and slipped from our messy fingers as we tried to pull it into place. As the sun rose into its zenith, the engine was left only half fixed to sulk in the shade of the boathouse. Mr. Romano led us out to wash our hands in the sea and munch on a few packed things from the farmhouse.

"So, two months?" I asked lifelessly as I looked out at the gently bobbing fruit trees that spread out in an ocean of purple leaves. The other man sighed heavily.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You want to know what's been happening while you were… sick?" I nodded. "I'll be straight with you, kid, it's been rough all over. Last time I heard, that Shepard of yours headed off another hit on a human colony, but it's since leaked out that she's working with Cerberus. A lot of folks aren't okay with that."

I sighed and picked up a stone to throw. It plopped loudly into the surf. _Another attack? That was something new._ Mr. Romano picked up a stone of his own and skimmed it of a wave. It hopped from wave to wave, hitting each crest in turn before dropping into a trough and disappearing.

"You're really good at that." I said, arcing another pebble into the surf.

"You get real good at something when it's all you can do to keep yourself away from the…" he started gruffly. "You get good." We sat side by side in silence again. Working on the engine had exhausted me. Now I watched the bobbing fruits and the slowly advancing tide. The other man skimmed another stone. "Listen, kid, I know what you're going through."

I turned, a flare of annoyance rearing its head. "Really? I don't see you rolling out of bed just to scream at yourself for being unable to get back in again." I said darkly. As I was finding out, the dark side of my new and tenuous grasp of my faculties was a rebooted memory. Some of the foggy half remembrances did nothing but fill me with shame.

"You should have seen me on this beach twenty two years ago." He replied in an even tone. "There's an old handgun somewhere out in that bay, had to throw it out that way just to remove the temptation. I didn't leave for the next week. This wasn't here, back then, just a wild grove." He motioned towards the orchard. "Met my wife on this beach. It was her that brought me back, I was so grateful that I married her on the spot." He chuckled before fixing me with a serious look. "War does funny things to a man, lad. There's no shame in it if it gets to you. It'll break you, yeah, shit happens. You can't let it keep you broken."

"So what, I should just get over it?"

"It's a real fool who thinks he can just bounce right back," Mr. Romano said gruffly. "I was back on this beach two years after, right after young Liz was born. Built that boathouse just to get away from the farmhouse. I… wasn't right while she was growing up. It took missing her tenth birthday to snap me out of it. Look, what I'm trying to say is that it's a process. Some come back quicker, but no one gets well while hauling off to get shot at."

He quieted up to let it sink in and threw another rock.

"Well, I'll be betting some kinda dinner will be on by now, hows about we head back in." the voice startled me. I looked around, bewildered. The sun was setting, the sand cooling under us as darkness set in. I accepted the hand that was outstretched and brushed myself off. The walk back to the farmhouse was pleasantly peaceful, if tiring. Dinner had indeed been fixed by the time we got back. Mrs. Romano happily doled out portions to the hungry workers and allowed me an extra-large portion of dessert. After the plate were cleared away, Mr. Romano retired to watch the news while Mrs. Romano bustled about with the days stack of mail.

"Oh, Michael, you got some post today. I thought I'd hold onto it until the things were away."

She handed me a tiny package, not much bigger than a matchbox. I opened it curiously. A small box dropped out onto my lap and rattled. Left in my hands was a small card, hand lettered in flowing script I recognized as translated Asari.

_Michael. I've found something, something I need your help with. I know about your condition, this package should contain something to help. Please find me as soon as you can.-L_

* * *

Author's Note:

I just want to address a few things. One, no, I haven't been through this kind of depression/breakdown myself. It is my sincere hope that I have tackled this scenario with the appropriate level of tact and grace that it deserve. While the majority of this chapter came from research and the stories told by people close to me, I realize that it may still offend. If i have, I apologize. -Statement redacted due to misunderstanding with reviewer-

-Liddle Out


End file.
